


Anam Cara

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Mystery, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-10
Updated: 2006-12-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The discovery of a mysterious, old medallion starts a chain of events that bring Ron and Hermione together in ways neither of them could have ever anticipated. The question now is. . .How close is too close?“When you are blessed with an anam cara, the Irish believe, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home." - John O'Donahue





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Anam Cara (Soul Mate)

**Anam Cara (Soul Mate)** **  
**  
_ÒWhen you are blessed with an anam cara, the Irish believe, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home." - John O'Donahue_

****

**_The discovery of a mysterious, old medallion starts a chain of events that bring Ron and Hermione together in ways neither of them could have ever anticipated. The question now is. . .How close is too close?_ **

**  
**Chapter One  
  
_The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been brutal. He was sweaty, grimy and sore all over, but it had been well worth it to beat some Slytherin arse. The celebration on the pitch lasted about a half hour before the Gryffindors retreated to the Tower for some intense partying. All he wanted at that moment though was a long hot shower to combat some of the stiffness in his shoulders and to relax a bit under the warm jet of water before he rejoined the rest of the team for a pint of butterbeer or maybe a titch of firewiskey to warm the soul._ __  
  
He wandered down the hall, towards the changing room, and undressed haphazardly, not caring where the pieces of his Quidditch uniform fell. HeÕd pick them up later; he was just too tired at the moment and needed that shower. Soon, he was finally naked. The tiled floor felt like ice beneath his feet. The closer he walked to the shower room, he realised he could hear running water. He assumed that one of the blokes was still here, cleaning up before the party, but when he reached the shower room, he realised it wasnÕt one of the blokes under that shower spray. Definitely NOT one of the blokes.   
  
A woman stood under the water jet, glistening and wet and very much naked.   
  
He groaned and immediately, he hardened. Watching the woman wash herself was maddening, and suddenly, it didnÕt seem at all odd to find a woman in the blokesÕ showers. Without thinking, he walked to her. The shower room floor was wet, the water warm and swirling towards the drain. He didnÕt make a sound; the woman didnÕt seem to realise he was coming closer. Now, he had a greater view of her body, and it took everything he had not to rush over and fuck her right then.   
  
She was shorter than he was, perhaps six or seven inches shorter. Her hair was long, and looked almost black because of its wetness. It hung more than half way down her back, almost touching her bum. And what a bum it was. He had never seen such a perfect arse in his life. It wasnÕt too round, yet not too flat. HeÕd never fancied the really petite girls. They were much too small, and he was always afraid heÕd accidentally break them. No, this woman was perfect. There was enough substance there for his large hands to grab onto comfortably.   
  
He licked his lips. If she looked this glorious from behind, he was dying to see her from the front. He wanted to know exactly who was this goddess in front of him. He raised his arm, and placed his hand on her shoulder. She didnÕt seem surprised at the contact. His heart beat wildly in anticipation. He would know who she was. HeÕd finally know.  
  
Slowly, she turned, and spoke, ÒRon! Harry! Wake up. WeÕre going to be late!Ó

~*~

  
  
Ron shot up in bed, startled out of his dream, his most _magnificent_ dream. He tried to shake the sleep from his head and eyes, idly noting that Harry was reluctantly doing the same in his bed across the room they shared in the Order headquarters of Grimmauld Place. And thatÕs when he realised he never got to see who his dream woman was. Bollocks! Every time heÕd dreamed that dream, someone or something interrupted him. He began to think he was cursed. In fact, he began cursing, using every bit of colourful language he knew.  
  
ÒRon! Watch your language,Ó Hermione huffed.   
  
She stood in the middle of the room, wearing her pink dressing gown, tied securely at the waist of course, arms crossed, and glaring daggers at him. Her hair flew wildly about her head, like she had just woken up, which was rather likely since it was early.   
  
What time was it anyway? He reached for his clock; it pointed to ÔToo Bloody EarlyÕ. That was what he thought. Groaning, he flopped back down onto his bed, and covered his face with his pillow. If he was lucky, heÕd smother himself, and then maybe heÕd get to finish that dream.   
  
ÒGo away, Hermione. IÕm sleeping,Ó he mumbled from beneath the pillow, though it came out rather muffled.   
  
ÒRon, if you donÕt get up this instant, you will regret it! You donÕt want to be late on your first day as Head Boy, do you?Ó HermioneÕs voice was becoming a little shrill with panic.   
  
Letting out a short, annoyed breath, Ron sat up again, his pillow falling onto his lap. ÒI wonÕt be late!Ó Immediately, he dropped back onto his bed, and pulled the covers over his head, in a vain attempt at shielding her from his slumber. He hadnÕt expected the shock of the cold morning air to hit him so suddenly. ÒBloody hell.Ó   
  
He opened his eyes to see Hermione holding his covers. She had yanked them off his bed, leaving him cold in only his boxers. Harry was lying on his bed, shaking with laughter, his head buried in his pillow to silence his laugh. Having had enough, Ron stalked over to where Hermione stood, ignoring the feeling in his stomach at the look on her face. Apparently, she hadnÕt expected him to be sleeping practically naked. He almost forgave her when he saw the pronounced blush creep across her cheeks. Almost. She had interrupted his dream after all.  
  
Taking the covers from a stricken looking Hermione, Ron deadpanned, ÒI believe these are mine.Ó And he made his way back to his bed, and wrapped himself in a tight cocoon of covers, before adding, ÒNow, IÕm going back to my dream.Ó   
  
ÒFine!Ó she said, clearly having snapped out of her stupor. ÒIf your Head Boy status is revoked because youÕre late, Ronald Weasley, donÕt blame me! I was only looking out for your well-being!Ó The door cracked shut, and two seconds later, Ron and Harry heard a second door - most likely the one to the bedroom she was sharing with Ginny Ð slam as well.  
  
Ron poked his head from his covers to stare at the door. ÒTouchy, that one,Ó he declared.  
  
ÒYou do have a talent for annoying her,Ó Harry volunteered, surprising Ron a bit. He had forgotten that Harry was there in the first place, and felt slightly guilty. That seemed to be happening more and more when Hermione was around, but Ron didnÕt like to dwell on it.  
  
ÒWell, if she didnÕt rip me from naked women dreams, then maybe I wouldnÕt be so short with her.Ó  
  
Harry perked up a bit. ÒYou had the dream again?Ó  
  
ÒYeah. I tell you, Harry, it was great. Quidditch changing rooms this time.Ó  
  
Both men groaned. It had been a long time fantasy of theirs, one they had shared during a night of drinking where they admitted they would love to shag a girl in the changing rooms.   
  
ÒDid you get to see who she was this time?Ó   
  
ÒNo.Ó Ron sighed and ran a hand through his tussled red hair. He tossed on the bed, so he lay on his side, and faced HarryÕs bed. ÒI was this close.Ó RonÕs index and thumb indicated about an inch. ÒShe was turning around when Miss Head Girl Alarm Clock struck.Ó  
  
ÒRotten luck, mate.Ó Harry shook his head in sympathy. ÒWell, weÕve got about another hour before we really should get up. Maybe youÕll get to see her this time, Ò he offered.  
  
ÒI hope so.Ó  
  
They settled back into their beds, and soon Ron was asleep again. Unfortunately, he did not dream.

~*~

  
  
RonÕs toe made very strong contact with the corner of the oak dresser.   
  
ÒBloody fucking hell!Ó   
  
Rushing around, trying to get everything packed before his mum realised he hadnÕt packed at all yet, Ron had stubbed his toe, and now he _hobbled_ around the room trying to get everything packed. He glanced at the clock, and groaned because he was running out of time. He still had to take a shower _and_ eat breakfast, and accomplish all of this in twenty-five minutes, so that Hermione wouldnÕt have anything to nag him about. Ron wasnÕt going to give her the satisfaction of saying ÔI told you soÕ.  
  
ÒItÕs all yours, mate,Ó Harry informed him of the bathroom status, poking his head into the bedroom.  
  
ÒCheers, Harry.Ó   
  
All right. Ron surveyed the room and decided that if he cut his shower down to five minutes, he would be able to finish packing and would still have time to spare for breakfast. He reached for his towel, and flung it over his shoulder as he crossed the hall to the bathroom. It didnÕt take him long to undress Ð he was on a tight schedule Ð and soon, he was washing up under the warm stream of water.   
  
The soap travelled his body, quickly creating a rich lather, when the images from last nightÕs dream floated back. His hand brushed his cock, making it spring to life. His mind debated; he didnÕt really have time for this, but every time he closed his eyes, he could see the woman from his dreams so clearly, and wondered what would have happened if the dream hadnÕt been interrupted. Would he have shagged her under the shower spray? No doubt.   
  
Mind made up, Ron firmly grasped himself, and began stroking steadily. His body responded instantly, causing him to harden further. His eyes closed lazily, causing his imagination to wander, filling in the blanks of his dream. Ron imagined the faceless woman falling to her knees and taking him into her mouth. God! That would feel fantastic. Then, the image blurred and was replaced with the sight of him shagging her against the wall. Ron moaned, and stroked himself faster. He still couldnÕt see her face, but somehow that didnÕt matter. He needed to find release quickly. His fist pumped his erection strongly; when he came, he cried out.  
  
Breathing hard, he tried to catch his breath. That had been the best wank heÕd had, and it was all due to his dream woman. He bet that if he ever found out what she looked like, heÕd likely explode.   
  
ÒRon, are you alright?Ó Hermione called out from the hall.   
  
Her voice was almost like dropping twenty buckets of ice-cold water on his head. What the hell was she doing in the hall? What had she heard? He prayed to every deity he knew, asking for a little bit of help. ÒUh, IÕm fine Hermione.Ó His voice seemed to resonate oddly. He hoped beyond everything that Hermione hadnÕt heard him wanking. Shite, shite, shite.  
  
ÒAre you sure? I thought I heard something.Ó  
  
He shook his fists in the air, damning said deities, and made quick work of washing up. ÒI said I was fine!Ó he reiterated, as he stepped out of the shower. Too bad he hadnÕt been looking where he was stepping because his foot landed on a wet bit of tile, causing him to slip and curse loudly. His knee hit the basin; he saw stars from the pain.  
  
ÒRon, what was that?Ó  
  
ÒNothing!Ó   
  
ÒThat wasnÕt ÔnothingÕ! Let me in, Ron.Ó  
  
ÒNo.Ó  
  
ÒYou may be hurt.Ó  
  
ÒI am also very naked at the moment. Now unless you wish to see me in all my glory, I strongly suggest you drop the matter.Ó   
  
A pregnant pause hung in the air. ÒIÕll meet you downstairs, then?Ó  
  
ÒGood girl,Ó he whispered, though felt oddly disappointed at her decision. It would have been quite interesting to see what would have developed had Hermione opted to join him in the bathroom. It would never happen, though. Hermione was much too proper and he cared too much about her to lose their friendship for a quick tumble in the shower. But that didnÕt mean he couldnÕt think about it. He decided to file that away for future reference.   
  
Grinning, he dressed at breakneck speed, before rushing back into his and HarryÕs temporary bedroom to finish packing. He chanced a glance at the clock. It confirmed his suspicions; he only had five minutes to finish packing. Bollocks. With a flick of his wand, his dresser drawers flung open. Another flick later, his clothes were airborne, flying into his trunk. Had he had more time, he would have sat back and watched his handiwork. Ever since he had become of age, he loved to tease Hermione with the fact he was allowed to do magic outside of school while she wasnÕt. She said it didnÕt bother her, but he could see the flicker of annoyance in her eyes when he announced he was going to ÔpracticeÕ charms. He didnÕt know what annoyed her most: the fact he was able to actually do magic legally or the fact he was annoying her under the pretence of doing homework.   
  
He suspected it was a little of both.  
  
Books flew about the room, fighting for choice positioning in RonÕs trunk. There were a few narrow misses and almost collisions, but his head managed to make it out unscathed. He sealed his trunk closed, and went to retrieve his broomstick from under his bed.   
  
Panic flowed through him when he realised it wasnÕt there. Frantically, he wondered where on earth it would be, considering it was always under his bed, just like Harry always kept his Firebolt under his own. Granted, RonÕs wasnÕt the best broomstick in the world, but it was his, and he prized it above all of his possessions. Before he did something rash, like tear apart the room, he tried to think about this logically.   
  
ÒRONALD WEASLEY! IF YOU DONÕT GET YOURSELF AND YOUR TRUNK DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT, WE WILL LEAVE WITHOUT YOU, HEAD BOY OR NOT!Ó  
  
ÒIÕll be right down, Mum!Ó  
  
Right. He began tearing the place apart, when something shiny under HarryÕs bed caught his attention. The floor was hard beneath his knees Ð and quite dusty as neither he nor Harry were the neatest of blokes. His curiosity made him forget his motherÕs threat of leaving him here, as he tilted his head to get a better look under the bed.   
  
Right there, in front of him was a strange coin. Ron picked it up. It wasnÕt a coin; it was a medallion of some kind, made of silver or something of the sort. He wasnÕt well versed in metals. He flipped the medallion back and forth in his hand. The front of it seemed to have some intricate pattern carved into it, like a whole bunch of ropes all knotted together. The back was smooth, but there was some sort of inscription he couldnÕt understand. The language seemed familiar, but Ron couldnÕt make out what it said. It also looked very, very old. How did it get under HarryÕs bed? Ron knew it wasnÕt HarryÕs since Harry didnÕt own many things, and the things he _did_ own were newly bought. Odd.  
  
ÒRONALD! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!Ó  
  
ÒComing!Ó  
  
Shite. He pocketed the medallion, quickly forgetting about it, and resumed looking for his broom. From his kneeling position, he saw twigs peaking out from under HarryÕs quilt. Reaching farther under the bed, RonÕs hand grasped the object. A loud triumphant whoop echoed through out the bedroom when his beloved broomstick emerged. He didnÕt have time to wonder what it was doing under HarryÕs bed because his mother was screaming again.  
  
ÒIÕm coming!Ó  
  
Ron ran down the stairs two at a time, his trunk floating behind him. He ran into the kitchen, out of breath. He sat down, and began loading his plate with breakfast when his mother entered.  
  
ÒFinally! Right now. Everyone gather your things. WeÕre off.Ó  
  
ÒBut Mum! I havenÕt eaten yet!Ó  
  
ÒWell, that will teach you to sleep in, Ronald Weasley. Now, come along.Ó  
  
Grumbling, Ron left the plate, but managed to grab a few slices of toast, when he heard Hermione whisper, ÒI told you so.Ó  
  
Great. If things stayed like this, it was going to be a very long year.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**  
  
  
The library was quiet. Hermione hadnÕt expected it to be otherwise; not many students decided to get ahead in their studies on the first day of class, but she had always been the exception to the rule. Even though she had not expected a stellar turn out when she posted her availability hours for student consultation on the bulletin board, she _had_ hoped that some of the younger students would have sought her out for some academic advice. As it was, no one had shown up yet.   
  
She considered the studentsÕ lack of concern regarding their studies as completely mad. How on earth would they find a career if they didnÕt apply themselves? She prided herself in helping all the younger students she could, but honestly, she was beginning to despair. If she couldnÕt even get Harry or Ron to take their studies seriously, and that after seven years of trying, she didnÕt feel like she had a hope in the world to inspire other students.  
  
But, as Head Girl, it was her duty to make herself available to the students, which was why she sat alone in the library, surrounded by her school texts, congratulating herself on her discipline and hard work. Unlike some other people who should remain nameless.  
  
In the end, she really didnÕt care that Ron, as Head Boy, had not done the same. Not really. It didnÕt bother her that he already seemed to be taking his Head Boy duties with a grain of salt, not disciplining any rule breakers on the train or in Gryffindor Tower or in the halls. Really, it was no concern of hers. Ron could do what he wanted; he was a grown man, after all.  
  
Her cheeks burned at that thought. Indeed, he was very much a grown man; she had learned that yesterday morning. While she had always realised that they had grown up tremendously from their days as first years, she hadnÕt realised just how grown up Ron had become. Yesterday, when she yanked the covers right off him in a vain attempt to wake him, she had been given a glimpse of what the Hogwarts robes hid.  
  
Hermione had not expected the sight she had seen. The second those covers floated off his body, Hermione cursed herself for having done it. RonÕs body was so long that it hardly fit on the bed, and his shoulders so broad, they almost hung off the sides. She had never realised just how fit and toned he was. His legs were muscled, and his stomach flat. His abdomen rippled, and his chest was divine. But what really sent her over the edge was seeing the sprinkle of hair on his chest. Oh Lord. It wasnÕt too much, but just enough copper hair to catch the light and make one take notice. What was most maddening was the way it travelled down, past his navel, towards the waistband of his boxer shorts, where it became a thicker patch. When she had seen that trail of hair, she had wanted to spontaneously combust on the spot. Thankfully, Ron broke her out of her semi-comatose state with a smart remark.  
  
She had been saved, but just barely. Just a few hours later, her self-control had been tested yet again when Ron announced he was naked behind that bathroom door. Hermione would never admit it aloud to anyone, but she had been fiercely tempted to break down that door and march into that bathroom right to where naked Ron stood. Alas, that wasnÕt an option. First off, Head Girls just didnÕt march into bathrooms filled with naked men. And secondly, she just didnÕt have enough of that Gryffindor courage to do it. So, she had opted to wait for him downstairs. Unfortunately, she had an amazing imagination and her thoughts kept playing out different scenarios involving her, Ron and the shower.   
  
Again, her cheeks burned. Head Girls should _not_ be thinking such things.  
  
Her books beckoned her; it was much safer to think about books than it was thinking about Ron Weasley. Clearing her throat, she resumed her reading, and soon, she was completely engrossed. That was, until someone threw himself on the chair beside her, knocking some of her books aside. Ron never had any respect for her school things.   
  
Hermione spied him from the corner of her eye, but didnÕt acknowledge his presence. After what she had been thinking a few minutes ago, combined with the fact that Ron was sitting very close Ð too close in fact Ð she didnÕt feel she could speak without embarrassing herself. It was enough that him just sitting a few inches away seemed to have cause an storm of butterflies in her stomach. Ron had turned the chair backwards, so that he straddled it, and rested his head on his arms, which were crossed on the back of the chair. He just kept staring at her silently.  
  
The silence was becoming unbearable for her, and she felt this incredible need to fill it. ÒNo,Ó she said, though Ron hadnÕt even said anything to her yet.  
  
ÒYou donÕt even know why IÕm here.Ó  
  
She glared. ÒItÕs obvious you want to copy some homework.Ó  
  
ÒOi!Ó His indignant cry echoed in the library, earning him a stern look from Madam Pince. He lowered his voice just above a whisper. ÒI donÕt only seek you out for school things, you know.Ó  
  
ÒYou canÕt blame me for assuming thatÕs why youÕre here. This is the library; you never venture into this _evil lair_ unless you want some help with potions.Ó  
  
ÒFor your information, IÕm not here about homework.Ó  
  
Hermione put down her book, and faced Ron, clearly sceptical. ÒAll right then. Enlighten me. Why _are_ you here?Ó   
  
A small pewter medallion slid from RonÕs hand, swinging from a small sized metal chain. He brought it closer so she could better see it. The medallion swung back and forth, and HermioneÕs breath caught suddenly when she realised what it was. Her eyes widened in shock. Could it be that Ron had figured out his feelings? Could it be that her dreams were finally coming true? Was he really going to give her this medallion, this symbol of love?  
  
ÒI need you to find out what this is for me,Ó he stated smugly.  
  
Her heart crashed. Of course, he wasnÕt going to give her the medallion. How silly of her to think so. All he wanted was information. Her throat constricted; she fought fiercely to hide her disappointment. She refused to cry. She would _not_ cry.  
  
ÒCan you help me figure out what it is?Ó   
  
Barely giving the object another glance Ð she knew if she did sheÕd never be able to control her tears- she responded blandly, ÒItÕs a Celtic Love Knot.Ó  
  
Ron held the object higher, to his eye level. ÒHow could you tell that from just looking at it three seconds?Ó His astonishment was clear.  
  
ÒHonestly, Ron. TheyÕre all over the place. IÕm surprised youÕve never seen one.Ó Was he just being dense to torture her?  
  
ÒAre you sure theyÕre all over? I mean this one looks really old. And itÕs got some weird language at the back. Look, please just take another look at it.Ó   
  
Ron looked so earnest that she felt her resolve weakening. If he was doing this to give it to another girl, Hermione silently swore she would hex him until kingdom come.  
  
ÒOh, all right.Ó   
  
He gently placed the medallion in her palm. ÒThanks, Hermione.Ó  
  
She huffed, trying to show him that this interruption was annoying and cutting into her studies, though his excitement was somewhat contagious. Damn him. Turning the medallion over in her hand, she realised it wasnÕt just a regular Celtic Love Knot, like those sold in shops. Ron was right; it seemed fairly old. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, and light in weight. Hermione tried reading the inscription on the back, but couldnÕt translate it straight off.  
  
ÒWhere did you find this?Ó she asked, her curiosity wining out.  
  
ÒI found it yesterday, under HarryÕs bed.Ó  
  
ÒWhat? Why didnÕt you show this to me earlier?Ó  
  
ÒI was running late! I put it in my pocket and just remembered it was there.Ó  
  
ÒRon! You should have showed this to me. What if itÕs some sort of dark magic? What if someone was trying to get Harry?Ó  
  
ÒLook, IÕm sorry okay? We donÕt know what it is yet, so can you just please spare me the lecture?Ó  
  
ÒFine!Ó If he didnÕt take HarryÕs safety seriously, at least she did. SheÕd find out what this was, if only for HarryÕs sake. Hermione inspected the medallion closer. ÒIt looks like the inscription is written in old Celtic,Ó she announced. ÒMy Celtic is a little rusty.Ó  
  
RonÕs mouth dropped. ÒRusty?Ó  
  
ÒI decided to teach myself a while back, but honestly, most libraries arenÕt equipped like HogwartsÕ, so IÕve not really kept up.Ó  
  
ÒYou taught yourself?Ó Ron was incredulous.  
  
ÒYes. You know, for fun.Ó  
  
ÒFor FUN?Ó Madam Pince shushed Ron loudly for his outburst.   
  
Exasperated, Hermione sighed. ÒYes, for fun. IÕll be right back; I need a book from the languages section to help me with the translation.Ó   
  
The book she needed was on the top shelf, of course, and weighed about fifty pounds. It took all of her strength to get it down then drag it to the table. Ron saw her struggle with the book, and effortlessly took it from her, and deposited on the table with a loud bang, earning him his third and final warning from a very annoyed Madam Pince.  
  
ÒWhy on earth didnÕt you just levitate that book? It weighs a ton!Ó  
  
Ò _It got you to help me didnÕt it?_ Ó she thought, but quickly shoved the thought aside. She couldnÕt go around thinking these thoughts about Ron. It would just break her heart in the end.  
  
ÒIt helps me stay fit,Ó Hermione replied instead.  
  
ÒMaybe I should implement book lifting as a fitness requirement for the Quidditch team.Ó   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes until she realised he was actually serious. ÒFor goodness sake! CanÕt you think of anything other than Quidditch for five minutes?Ó   
  
ÒNo,Ó he replied honestly.  
  
She huffed. ÒMen!Ó  
  
ÒFace it. You wouldnÕt have me any other way.Ó His lopsided grin was deadly. All he ever needed to do was flash that boyish grin, and Hermione was hopeless and helpless. At the sight of it, she would pretty much do anything he ever asked. Heat burned within her when images, of a recent fantasy she had, emerged. It involved Ron, whipped cream and that wonderful, sexy smile of his. Oh my.  
  
ÒRight.Ó Hermione cleared her throat. ÒIÕll get started on this. Why donÕt you try to find any references to Celtic Love Knots while I translate?Ó Ron hesitated. ÒWhat? WhatÕs wrong?Ó  
  
ÒI hoped that I could just leave this with you, and I could get in some time on the pitch.Ó At least Ron had the decency to look slightly abashed.  
  
ÒYou werenÕt really expecting me to do all this research on my own, were you?Ó  
  
ÒWell, youÕre so much better at it than I am.Ó  
  
ÒRon! I canÕt believe you! I happen to have other things I need to focus on, and donÕt have time to research your every whim!Ó  
  
ÒItÕs NOT a whim!Ó The vehemence in his voice startled her, and scared her a bit as well. When Ron decided he was passionate about something, no one could convince him otherwise. It was formidable to see; yet the intensity was frightening, though not in a bad way. No. It was more frightening in the sense she could really lose herself and her heart in that intensity, and she wasnÕt sure she would come out unscathed.  
  
ÒYou donÕt need to yell,Ó she informed him.   
  
ÒSorry.Ó And he really did seem sorry. ÒLook, you work on the translation, and IÕll find Love Knots, then?Ó   
  
Nodding, she turned to her book and began working, while Ron made his way deeper into the libraryÕs _evil lair_. An hour later, she was finishing up the last of the translations, when Ron plopped back down in the seat beside her.  
  
ÒIÕve got it!Ó he announced. This time, he gently placed the book onto the table, and cast a furtive glance towards Madam PinceÕs desk. Hermione suspected he was afraid sheÕd expel him from the library. ÒIÕve got it,Ó he repeated, his voice lower.  
  
She tried not to laugh. Hermione had never expected to see Ron reading a book called _ÔLove MagicÕ_ ; it seemed more suited to the likes of Lavender or Parvati. He flipped the pages, quietly mumbling to himself, a trait Hermione found endearing, if not annoying. Sometimes he would mumble when concentrating, and it often drove her mad. But for some reason, she thought it rather cute today.  
  
ÒAll right, then. What have you found?Ó  
  
ÒThis.Ó He pointed to a spot on the very faded and dusty page. Hermione breathed in the scent; it was one of her favourites. ÒAre you actually smelling the book?Ó Ron asked disbelievingly.  
  
A fierce blush flamed her cheeks. ÒNever mind. Please show me what youÕve found.Ó  
  
ÒItÕs something called _ÔAnam CaraÕ_.Ó  
  
ÒÕAnam CaraÕ? ÔSoul MateÕ.Ó  
  
ÒYeah. How did you know?Ó Ron shook his head, and raised his hands in surrender. ÒYou know what? DonÕt tell me. You probably read about it. You know, for _fun_.Ó  
  
His little barb hurt a little, but she tried not to let it bother her. He teased her like that quite often, so she should be used to it by now. She wasnÕt, though.   
  
ÒAre you through insulting me?Ó It came out harsher than she expected.  
  
ÒHey, why are you so touchy?Ó  
  
ÒNo reason. Look, please just continue.Ó The subject was closed. She didnÕt want Ron to know why it hurt so much when he said things like that. That would be admitting something she wasnÕt ready to admit. Not yet. Ron looked at her dubiously, probably wondering if she was going to have a mood swing or something of the like. ÒPlease. Continue,Ó she prodded.  
  
ÒOkay. Well, according to this, the _Anam Cara_ spell is very ancient, and very powerful. There isnÕt that much information because itÕs quite rare. Legend says that Aengus, the Celtic God of Love, created the Anam Cara to help lovers find their one true soul mate- much like he found Caer - and bind their souls forever the way the Gods had intended at the beginning of time.Ó  
  
ÒHe created a medallion, one that mortals could touch and this medallion had special powers. Once it chose its intended, it would search out that personÕs soul mate so they would eventually be bound to each other, sharing everything, and in some extreme cases, even sharing their magic.Ó  
  
Hermione absorbed the information hungrily. It was quite interesting, but one thing nagged at her. ÒYou know, this is pretty innocuous. Why in the world would this book be in the Restricted Section?Ó  
  
ÒI think I know,Ó Ron volunteered with a grin. He read a passage from the book, ÒÕOne of the eventual bindingÕs more visible effects is the increased sexual appetite and attraction for their Anam Cara. The attraction is powerful and so strong, itÕs virtually undeniable.ÕÓ  
  
ÒOh my.Ó Hermione could feel herself flush. Well, this legend had to be rubbish then. What legend spoke of undeniable sexual attractions? It seemed quite similar to some of the romance novels Lavender had lying around. And those were definitely fantasy.  
  
ÒHey! You donÕt suppose someone was trying to get Harry to find this, do you? To flush out his soul mate? What if someone wanted to use HarryÕs soul mate to trap him?Ó  
  
ÒHonestly, Ron. You donÕt believe a little piece of metal can find a personÕs soul mate and bind them, do you?Ó  
  
ÒIt says so right here!Ó  
  
ÒWell yes, but thatÕs more rumour than fact. Sounds like something flighty little girls thought up to spice up their romantic fantasies.Ó  
  
Ron huffed.   
  
ÒThereÕs no binding. ItÕs a legend!Ó she insisted.  
  
He didnÕt seem to be listening to her. ÒWhat if Ginny is HarryÕs soul mate? What if itÕs you?Ó he asked wide eyed.  
  
The thought didnÕt really sit well with Hermione. Harry was an attractive bloke and all, but he wasnÕt really what she looked for in a boy. For starters, he didnÕt have red hair and didnÕt annoy her to the point of madness. ÒI donÕt think so.Ó  
  
ÒWell, think what you will, but _I_ think IÕll hold on to this little thing. WouldnÕt want Harry to accidentally bind himself to someone, would we?Ó  
  
ÒRon, donÕt be silly.Ó  
  
ÒIÕm not. So what about you? Any luck with the translation?Ó he asked, obviously trying to change the subject.  
  
ÒYes, IÕm just about finished,Ó she replied, and turned back to her parchment, trying to ignore the fact that Ron seemed to be taking this legend thing with a little too much enthusiasm. She scribbled the last few words of the translation, and finished with a triumphant flourish. ÒThere!Ó  
  
ÒLet me see.Ó Ron grabbed the parchment.   
  
ÒRon! The inkÕs still wet!Ó  
  
ÒItÕs fine. LetÕs see. _ÔMy heart reaches out to you, deeply longing to heal the separation, to be in total union, yet I know painfully so, I must await divine timing, One day our hearts will be as one, In Union, In all, All that we are will be forever more. Õ_ ItÕs a poem?Ó  
  
ÒEssentially, yes.Ó Ron seemed disappointed. She didnÕt understand why. It was a rather lovely poem. Ron let the parchment fall back onto the table, and ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably.   
  
ÒAll that for a bloody poem.Ó  
  
ÒI told you it was a silly legend.Ó  
  
Neither of them noticed the medallion glowing beside them.  
  
  
  
**Authors' Notes** : We'd both like to thank all of the readers for their awesome response. We love you guys!!!

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_It was night. The moonlight was almost completely covered by the clouds that were allowing rain to fall from the heavens. Mist swirled, covering the forest floor. It shifted as he walked toward her, clouding up around him and revealing him in the small patch of radiance that gleamed through the trees._ _  
  
Her hair was wet, clinging to her naked form in dark rivers, getting even more soaked as she waited for him. He was naked too, hard where she was soft, and it didn't feel at all unusual that they were both in such a state. The rain glimmered on their bare skin, and it seemed to wash away the fear, leaving nothing but longing in its wake.   
  
As he approached, he licked his lips, his eyes roaming over her body hungrily. Then he glanced back up, and his brow knit in disappointment. "I still don't know who you are."  
  
She laughed softly. "Oh Ron, don't you see? I'm the one you are looking for."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"You should know already."  
  
He growled in frustration. "I know! I should know. . .but, I don't. Tell me!"  
  
"I'm not going to give you the answer. You need to discover it on your own," she taunted, still laughing at his aggravation.   
  
He wrapped his large hands around her naked waist and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. Passion roared between them the same as always. The rain cooled fevered flesh as his lips claimed hers, his tongue thrusting into her willing mouth. They stayed like that for a while, touching, kissing, filling the air with the intimate sounds of lovers. She moaned in disappointment when he pulled away from her, but then rewarded her by dipping down and capturing a taunt nipple through the strands of her hair, sucking on it, causing her to cry out.  
  
"I will make you mine," he vowed as he stood to his full height and looked down at her.   
  
"I'm already yours," she whispered, standing on her toes to kiss that sensitive patch of skin behind his ear. "I've been waiting."  
  
He shivered. Goose flesh followed her lips as she trailed them over his neck and down to his chest. He was so vulnerable to her like this, and the knowledge was maddening, making the need rise up violently. It seemed he almost couldn't resist, and he reached between her legs, his fingers parting her and sliding inside her warm welcoming body. She shook at the contact, moaning softly.  
  
"You want me," he stated simply when he discovered her wet with need.  
  
She gasped, "Yes."  
  
"You want all of me. . ." He slid his fingers even deeper as she arched into his hand. ". . .here inside you. Tell me that's what you want."  
  
"Yes, yes, that's what I want," she moaned. "I'm so empty without you."  
  
Ron removed his fingers and brought them to his lips, sucking on them, tasting her desire for him. With a growl of possessiveness he hauled her against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. Then he pushed her against a nearby tree, his hands running over her thigh, bringing it up to hook around his waist. He was rock hard, and pressing against her. It didn't even matter that she hadn't told him her name, just so long as the hunger stilled, the wanting, the desperate pounding of desire that could drive a person mad.   
  
"I'm empty without you, too. So lonely. . . You have no idea." He groaned, and bent his knees to place his erection in more intimate contact with her waiting body. "Tell me again that you want me."  
  
A strange sound suddenly vibrated around them and she groaned._  
  
"No!"  
  
Hermione rolled over and turned off her alarm clock, which was rattling around on her nightstand, chirping annoyingly, hardly sounding like the morning bird's song it was supposed to. Hermione rustled more deeply under the covers, miserable and embarrassed.  
  
She was still aching for him, burning with need. She squeezed her legs tighter together when she recalled how mind blowing it'd been to have Ron touch her like that. It was only a dream, she reminded herself. An incredibly vivid dream. She could still feel his kiss on her lips, and it was doing nothing for her sanity.   
  
Ever since she'd returned to school, she was haunted by dreams of Ron, crystal clear dreams that got more passionate and more desperate every night. They were so real that they stayed with her during the day, causing her to stare at Ron longingly when he wasn't looking. She was Head Girl. She couldn't afford such whimsical fantasies, especially about someone as utterly clueless as Ron. His emotional depth extended to Quidditch obsession and the glory of being first to arrive for dinner.   
  
She would not think of Ron today, she vowed as she got up and donned her dressing gown. Still, there was just the little matter of the throbbing desire in her body that begged for release, but it was nothing that a few minutes alone in the bath wouldn't fix. She'd got rather proficient in self satisfaction lately, and had actually started setting her clock thirty minutes early to give her time to relieve the tension she'd come to count on being there. Leave it to her to create routine, even in her dreams.   
  
Damn Ron for being near naked that morning, this was all his fault. Who slept in their underwear, anyway?  
  


~*~

  
  
  
Hermione sat in her corner of the library. She was surrounded by the quiet sounds of quills scratching against parchment and pages of old worn volumes being turned. They were a comfort to her. It helped to still the insistent nagging in her mind, the voice that begged her to search out Ron and see if he really did kiss as incredibly as she imagined.   
  
Her dreams were getting out of hand. They were invading her life, interfering with all her carefully laid out plans. She was distracted, and frustrated to the point that she'd become decidedly irritable.   
  
So what was she doing about it? She was hiding. Safe in the evil lair, certain that Ron didn't have anymore fanciful medallions for her to research. Yes, everything was just fine. She'd spend her Saturday revising, working on her Advanced Potions essay that was due next week. Head Girl duties sometimes made it difficult for her to stay as ahead as she'd like. Really, Ron should be studying too. He wasn't only Head Boy, but Quidditch Captain as well. He needed every spare moment for his studies.   
  
Not that she cared what Ron did, because really. . . she didn't.  
  
"Hey. . .Have you seen, Ron?"  
  
Hermione gasped and jumped, spinning around in her seat to see Harry walking towards her.   
  
"You scared me!" she snapped at Harry in a quiet but annoyed voice.   
  
"I noticed." He smirked. "You've been jumpy lately. Are you okay?"  
  
"F-fine," she stuttered, running a hand through her mass of hair to still the shake in them. "Fine, I'm just. . . working, and you startled me, that's all."  
  
"It didn't look like you were working. It looked like you were staring off into space."  
  
Hermione huffed, feeling annoyed and embarrassed. "Is there something I can do for you, Harry?"  
  
He arched an eyebrow at her and pulled out a seat to sit. "Yeah, I was looking for Ron."  
  
"Well, how should I know where he is?" Hermione said, shuffling her parchment, trying to appear busy. "Have you tried the Quidditch field? He's usually out there goofing off, isn't he? Playing with his broomstick when he should be studying."  
  
She was suddenly struck by vivid and erotic images of Ron in the shower, gloriously naked, stroking himself. Just the thought of it had a profound effect on her. Oh Merlin, what was wrong with her, lately?  
  
Harry obviously caught her unintended meaning because he burst out laughing at her statement, but stopped when Madam Price scowled in his direction.   
  
"What?" Hermione asked, feigning innocence, abruptly bringing herself back to reality.   
  
Harry choked, trying to bite back another laugh. "You just. . . with the broomstick. . . that was. . ."  
  
Hermione was looking at him quizzically, calmly waiting for him to make a complete sentence.  
  
"Oh, never mind," Harry sighed, seeming miffed that he didn't have anyone to share the joke with. "I'm just worried about him. He's been acting strange lately. Distant."  
  
"Really?" Hermione frowned. She hadn't had much contact with Ron lately. In truth, she'd been avoiding him, afraid she'd humiliate herself after the thoughts and dreams she'd been having. "Do you think he's okay?"  
  
"I guess." He shrugged. "I mean. . . he does have a lot on his mind."  
  
Hermione nodded, picking up her bag to search through it. "He is busy. We all are."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Harry said in a weary voice. "I just get paranoid sometimes."  
  
Hermione dropped her bag on her lap and reached over to squeeze Harry's hand. "I know. . . Listen, Ron is fine. We both are. The start of school has just been hectic and we're getting our bearings." She smiled reassuringly. "How is the DA coming? We're all anxious for the meetings to start again?"  
  
Successfully distracted, Harry launched into discussion about the DA, asking her advice on the things he had planned, telling her the list of new students interested, and so on. She nodded, and gave her opinion when needed. He was passionate about it, especially this year. Things in the wizarding world were grim, and everyone needed all the practice they could get.   
  
"What are you looking for?" Harry asked after a long while, sounding amused. "You've been looking through that bag for a half an hour now."  
  
Hermione glanced down at her bag in her lap, and then back up to Harry. "Oh. . . It's nothing. I just. . . Well, it doesn't matter. I'm sure it's in my room."  
  
"Okay, well I better go anyway. I have a lesson with Dumbledore tonight," Harry said, glancing at his watch.   
  
Harry still studied Occlumency with Professor Dumbledore, and they all knew how important it was that he kept up with that.   
  
"You go. You don't want to be late. Besides, I've got to go get ready for the Prefect meeting tonight," Hermione said, packing her bag up. "I don't want to be unprepared."  
  
"Heaven forbid," Harry said, sounding almost as mocking as Ron. "We certainly wouldn't want you to be unprepared."  
  
He left, and she was close behind. She had to go to her room for a bit, and then she'd organize her things and head to the meeting. She felt nervous for some reason, but she chalked it up to the Prefect meeting. After all, she and Ron were in charge of running it, and that could certainly cause a case of the nerves.   
  


~*~

  
  
  
Ginny trudged up the stairs to the Head Girl bedroom, slightly concerned, slightly amused. It wasn't everyday that someone like Hermione forgets to show up for something as important as a Prefect meeting, especially now that she was Head Girl.   
  
She reached the top landing where Hermione's bedroom was, and would have knocked, but the door was ajar. She peered in, gasping at what she saw. The usually immaculate room was in tatters, clothes strewn about, drawers emptied and laying on the floor, books scattered, papers laying on the bed and dresser as though they'd been shifted through, then tossed aside like so much rubbish.   
  
Hermione was riffling through the bottom drawer, tossing more clothes over her shoulder in a very un-Hermione like fashion. Ginny walked fully into the room, completely unnoticed by the Head Girl. She caught a pair of knickers as they went soaring by, looked at them, and then tossed them aside to lay with their fallen comrades on the increasingly messy floor.   
  
"Hermione?"  
  
Hermione's head snapped up and she turned to look at Ginny. Her hair was even frizzier than usual, falling over her shoulders and down her back in untamed disarray. When she jumped up, Ginny saw that she had on a simple, somewhat sheer, white nightdress and a pink dressing gown that hung open, one side falling off her shoulder to droop sadly on her arm. Never in all her years of knowing her had Ginny seen Hermione in such a state, looking wild and totally chaotic.  
  
"I didn't see you come in," Hermione said, then turned back to her dresser, pulling open yet another drawer and rummaging through it.  
  
"Lose something?"   
  
"Yes, something important."   
  
"I guessed," Ginny said, watching more neatly folded clothes land in a pile on the floor. "What in Merlin's name is it?"  
  
"I don't know," Hermione mumbled, stopping for a second. "I feel like I should. . . I just can't remember. Still, I know it's here. . . Somewhere."  
  
Now Ginny was concerned, this just wasn't normal behavior, not by the farthest stretch of the imagination. "So, you missed the Prefect meeting to tear your room apart, looking for something. . .but, not knowing what that something is?"  
  
"Yes." Hermione nodded, not even flinching at the mention of the Prefect meeting.   
  
"Are you feeling okay, Hon?" Ginny whispered, approaching Hermione cautiously. "I know you've been under a lot of stress lately."  
  
"Don't patronize me, Ginny Weasley. I know what I'm doing. I'm not mad," Hermione snapped.   
  
"You're not looking at yourself from my view. You missed a Prefect meeting for God's sake. Both of you, Ron skived off too. I thought he'd at least show up since he's suppose to help run it," Ginny said almost to herself, then shook her head. "Anyway, I reckoned that maybe you two got into a fight or something major like that."  
  
"No, no fight. . . I haven't seen him all day," Hermione said, getting a far off look in her eye. "Ron missed the meeting too?"  
  
"Yeah, we didn't do much. Pansy kept fawning over some new necklace that her parents bought her, and Malfoy tried to take over, but you can imagine how that went.  
  
"Necklace?" Hermione was still staring into space, her eyebrows knitted as through she was trying to figure something out. Then suddenly, she gave a surprised shout.  
  
"What?" Ginny gasped, looking over her shoulder.   
  
"The medallion. . . that's it," Hermione said triumphantly.  
  
"What medallion?"  
  
"Ron's, he found it. . . That has to be the reason," she said, then looked at Ginny, her eyes suddenly filled with clarity. "The soul mates thing is rubbish, but it must somehow be playing on my feelings. Our feelings. He must have some too. . . somewhere."  
  
"What's going on, Hermione?" Ginny asked, genuinely worried.   
  
"Nothing. . . Nothing, it's fine," Hermione said, straightening her dressing gown. "I have to go talk to Ron. I'm sorry about the prefect meeting. We'll fix it all tomorrow."  
  
"But. . ." Ginny started, not at all certain that she was comfortable with the whole thing, especially now that Ron and a mysterious medallion had been brought into the picture. She, more than anyone was weary of magical objects, the memory of Tom Riddle's dairy was never far from her mind.   
  
"Ginny, it's fine. . . It's just some sort of. . . charm or something, probably the work of silly schoolgirls. I'll fix it," Hermione said reassuringly, looking much more sane then she had when Ginny had arrived. "I'm just mad I didn't figure it out sooner. Wasted a whole day. I'll kill Ron!"  
  
Ginny smiled, and stepped aside as Hermione walked pass her. "If you're sure."  
  
"I'm sure," Hermione nodded, "Go to bed. It's late. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Hermione headed out of the door, and it was on the tip of Ginny's tongue to point out that she was still half dressed, with her dressing gown hanging open and bare feet to match, but she didn't. There was something highly entertaining about the idea of Hermione knocking on Ron's door in such a state. The sight would probably torture Ron for months and Ginny wouldn't be a proper sister if she passed up the opportunity to see her brother suffer. Especially since he was the insufferably blind prat that he was. Everyone but him knew that Hermione was in love with him.   
  


~*~

  
  
  
  
Hermione quickly dashed down to the common room, thankful that it was late enough to be empty. She then walked, barefooted, up to the boys' side of the tower, passing each year's dormitory as she headed to the very top where the Head Boy bedroom was located.   
  
There was a dull sort of humming in her head, one that blocked out the nagging fear of being caught sneaking about the boys side of the tower in naught but her nightdress. She needed to fix whatever magic had been cast over her. It was obvious that Ron's medallion was somehow playing on her attraction to him, drawing her to him. She realized now that it hadn't been something she was looking for, but rather someone--Ron.  
  
When Ginny had mentioned Ron the madness had stopped, the insane throbbing that had refused to be stilled, quieted and left her with one thought, go to him. Suddenly she knew she was obviously under the influence of a love spell. Hermione had to stop it now before something embarrassing happened. The fact that Ron had missed the prefect meeting was alarming. It meant that it was affecting him too, and perhaps worse than her since the medallion was in his procession.   
  
She didn't waste the time to wonder why it was affecting him, or hope that perhaps it meant that he really did harbor romantic feelings for her. She'd have to think about all that later when she'd sorted out this whole mess.   
  
She arrived at Ron's room and raised her hand to knock softly when the door was jerked open, slamming against the wall and creating a loud racket. Hermione stiffed a gasp of surprise. She'd been very quiet, how had Ron known she was there?   
  
She was about to ask when she really noticed him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of worn jeans. He was barefoot and shirtless and his hair standing on end in little red spikes, looking like he'd run his hand through it many times. She allowed herself the luxury of staring at his chest, taunt and defined, with that sprinkling of little reddish hairs that had appealed to her so much the last time she saw him in such a state.   
  
"Hi," he greeted her, turning around to walk into his room, leaving the door open for her to follow.   
  
A hot ache grew in her throat as she caught a glimpse of his back, wonderfully bare with carved muscles that flexed as he leaned over. With one quick motion he pushed all the clothes and personal items that lay on his bed to the floor. At least she assumed there was a floor under the mess that lay strewn across it. He gestured at her to sit, and then stepped over the destruction to the other side of the room. Hermione shook her head, forcing away the thoughts that were causing her heart to speed up.   
  
"Ron, your room. It's--"  
  
"A mess," Ron finished, turning back to her. " I know. . . It's not always like this. I was just--"  
  
"Looking for something?"  
  
She peered around, noting that it was even worse shape then hers was. Everything that could be gone through had been, probably more than once.   
  
"Yeah," Ron said in a far off voice, frowning as he glanced around his room also. "I'm looking for something. . . Something important."  
  
Her breath caught at his words. It was just a love spell, she reminded herself. A powerful love spell that made her want to go to him and sooth that crease between his eyes. To run her hands down his hard chest, and then lower, finding out what that trail of reddish hair lead to. . .  
  
"The medallion," she said sharply, and then took a deep breath, desperate for a distraction.  
  
Ron shook his head. "No, that's not it."  
  
"But, it is. . ."  
  
"No, it's right over there. . ." Ron gestured towards a large pile of things on his desk. ". . .somewhere."  
  
He was far gone, Hermione could see. He hadn't noticed that it was the practically the middle of the night, or that she was in his room when it was off limits. It was obvious that all he cared about was finding that something he was looking for. She felt a flush spread over her body, spiraling and pooling in her stomach. It'd be bad for him to find it, really bad, because suddenly she very much wanted to be found.   
  
It's a spell. It's not real. That warm delicious feeling that over came her as she watched him lean over and rifle though some school robes, checking the pockets--it was fake.   
  
"You won't find it there," she whispered, almost taunting him.   
  
Ron dropped his robes, rising to his full height, looking at her expectantly. She watched one beautiful carved eyebrow rise as he waited, staring at her with a slightly clouded gaze that was mesmerizing to her. Why hadn't she ever noticed how blue his eyes were?  
  
"Hermione!" he snapped when she didn't explain herself. "I'm going mad here. . ."  
  
She opened her mouth, but the words were stuck. She was supposed to fix it. She needed the medallion. She could reverse the magic.   
  
Ron huffed when she still didn't answer, running a shaking hand through his hair. "If you even care for me a little, you'll help me. I just can't look anymore."  
  
There was pain in his voice. He looked horribly frustrated and tired. She could see it in the circles under his eyes. It was preying on him body and mind. She didn't want him to suffer. No, that was the last thing she wanted. She loved him far too much for that.   
  
She sighed, giving in. "Oh Ron, don't you see? I'm the one you're looking for."  
  
She heard his quick in take of breath and his eyes widened at her words. He was silent for one long moment before he spoke in a stunned voice. "What?"  
  
Hermione bit her lip, feeling foolish. It was a terribly arrogant thing to say. She would have explained herself, but she noticed Ron looking intently at her, his gaze running over her body. For the first time she realized that her dressing gown was open, that her white nightdress left very little to the imagination and he seemed to be taking it all in.   
  
"You're her," he whispered in amazement.  
  
"Her?" Hermione asked distractedly, taking a step backwards, and tripping over more mess, feeling totally exposed.   
  
"My dream girl. . ."  
  
"Oh! Thank you. . . but, I think it's a love spell that's affecting your judgment."  
  
"You're the one I've been dreaming of every night. . . You wouldn't tell me your name. You said I should know," Ron mumbled, tilting his head to look at her more closely. "I guess I should have. . ."  
  
"Oh," Hermione said, reaching to tie her dressing gown when she noticed his gaze directed at her chest. Suddenly, his words struck her and she gasped in horror. "Oh. . . Oh god. . ."  
  
She felt her whole face heat up. The blush spread to her neck and she thought she'd be sick from the sheer embarrassment that poured over her. All her dreams, her very private dreams--Ron had been there.   
  
She started backing up in earnest, abandoning the tie to her gown. It hardly mattered. In her hast, her heal caught on Pig's cage that was laying in her path, and she fell, landing smack on her bum in the middle of a pile of Ron's clothes.  
  
"Are you ok?"   
  
Ron leapt over the cage and grasped her upper arm, helping her up. An electrifying shudder reverberated through her despite her embarrassment. His touch felt so good, his rough fingers so right against her soft skin.  
  
"I've got to go," she said, jerking her arm out of his grasp and turning towards the door.   
  
"Please don't. . ." Ron said, following after her.  
  
His room was like an obstacle course and she nearly fell again, but didn't stop in her retreat. "I have to!"   
  
"It's late."   
  
"I don't care."  
  
"You'll get caught," he said as Hermione backed against the door just in time for Ron's hands to land on either side of her head, trapping her against the old wood. "It'd look really bad for the Head Girl to be found lurking around the Boys' dormitory."  
  
"I'll risk it," she whispered weakly.  
  
Hermione could feel the heat from his tense, hard body as the tantalizing smell of his spiced soap surrounded her. He exuded masculinity and his effect on her was so strong she almost moaned out loud with longing. She had to squeeze her eyes shut when she found them level with his bare chest. Her heart was pounding, beating at her ribs relentlessly. Excitement was flooding through her and it made thinking nearly impossible.   
  
"I meant what I said, Hermione," Ron breathed against her ear in a voice laced with lust. "I will make you mine."  
  
Her eyes flew open and she met his gaze head on. The passion she saw there was startling. His eyes were no longer clouded, but a dark crystal blue that was so intense it took her breath away. For a moment she almost felt like she was looking into his soul, that she could hear it crying out to hers.   
  
With a possessive growl he grasped her shoulders firmly and crushed her to him, not stopping to ask permission as he lowered his head to kiss her. Fire --hot and fierce -- speared through her as he moved his mouth over hers, stealing her very breath away with his intensity. The voice that had been calling to her all day suddenly reverberated very clearly in her mind, leaving one word in it's wake. . .   
  
_Mine._  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

Relief, that's what he felt

**Chapter Four**

 

 

Relief, that's what he felt. An overwhelming sense of exhilaration that he'd found her. That he could stop looking, that she was here in his arms, tasting of mint, and smelling incredibly good.   
  
It'd been so hard the past couple of weeks, his nights were filled with dreams of his faceless woman, and every morning he woke up a little more frustrated until he finally got to the point that he could think of nothing but her. He wasn't sure when it happened, but just being Ron had stopped being enough. He started feeling as though there was a huge chunk of him missing, hiding somewhere unclaimed.   
  
And the madness. That had been the hardest. He'd felt it set in, that nagging feeling of just missing something. He'd known it was close, so close that it should have been on hand, and it was--she was. Hermione had been there all along, and somehow he'd missed it.   
  
None of it mattered now. The important thing is that he had figured it out and that missing part of him was about to be claimed.   
  
His tongue ran over her lips, and they parted with a breathy moan. He took advantage, exploring her mouth, loving her taste. He was totally intoxicated. He couldn't get close enough. He trailed his fingers up one smooth thigh, before he lifted it and pressed himself against her stomach. She responded, arching more fully into him. Her soft curves molding into the contours of his body. Her hands ran though his hair, holding his head, and her tongue brushed against his. Their teeth clashed, but they didn't notice, the hunger was so fierce. He pulled away for just a fraction of a second, and she moved her body against his, thrusting, searching. Lightning spiked though him, making him throb with intense need.   
  
He wanted to fuck her right there against the door.   
  
Just as he formed the thought, the reality of what he was doing struck him. This was Hermione he had pinned against his door, and it wasn't just a nighttime fantasy. This was startlingly real. The blood pumping through his veins, the smooth feel of her skin, the scent of summer flowers that surrounded him, everything was really happening.   
  
"Too fast," he gasped, trying to pull away, and she moaned at the loss, gripping his hair tighter and trying to bring his mouth back to hers. Ron wasn't immune, far from it. Her hips moved against him again, and he groaned in response. She was making him feel very possessive . . . frighteningly so. "Hermione, please. . ."   
  
She opened her eyes to look at him, and his breath caught at the unbridled passion he saw in them. He'd meant to stop them altogether, but somehow the idea felt ludicrous. He reluctantly lowered her leg, and then reached up run a thumb over her lips that were swollen from his kisses. He let his fingers trail over her flushed cheeks and into her hair, which was wild, with curls springing in every direction.   
  
"God, you're so beautiful," he said, feeling awe at the sight she presented.   
  
She licked at her lips, and then beamed at him, a brilliant unrestrained smile. "Thank you."   
  
Her smile went straight to his heart. This was his Hermione. He cared for her and he certainly couldn't use her body so recklessly, no matter how badly he wanted to.   
  
"We have to stop."   
  
She stopped smiling, and frowned at his words. "I know."   
  
"There's something wrong. . . This, it's too much," Ron said, choking on each word.   
  
"It's the medallion. It's affecting us." Hermione sighed, seeming just as disappointed as he was.   
  
He nodded, feeling his throat tighten. "That makes sense."   
  
"I should go."   
  
"You should."   
  
Hermione bit at her lip, seeming hesitant for a second. "I don't want to go, though. . .Just so you know."   
  
He swallowed hard. "Yeah?"   
  
She nodded, her gaze flicking over his chest before she met his eyes again. "I know it's just a silly love spell, but . . it was nice. Kissing you. Even better than I thought it'd be."   
  
He couldn't help but smile. "Kissing you was nice, too. Very nice."   
  
She bit her lip again, thinking for a moment before she spoke. "Maybe you should give the medallion to me so I can reverse it before I go."   
  
Ron felt his heart clench. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help the horrible feeling of loss that went though him. "I don't want it reversed."   
  
"But. . . Look at what it's done," Hermione mumbled, looking around his room.   
  
"Just one more kiss. Then you can have it and things can go back," Ron said, not wanting her to leave remembering him as some barbaric bastard who'd practically raped her.   
  
Hermione thought about it for a bit, then looked back at him. "I suppose that'd be okay. One kiss can't hurt anything, not after all this."   
  
He reached out to her, his hands cupping her face. His thumbs ran over her flushed cheeks, and her eyes drifted closed in anticipation. Then, he leaned in to brush his lips against hers, soft and feather-light, and she responded with her own gentle movements, easing his guilt with tantalizing persuasion. There was a dreamy intimacy to this kiss. Tongues licking against parted lips, and then slipping into welcoming mouths, exploring. What had started out slow, swiftly became much more powerful as they lost themselves in the feel of each other.   
  
After a while they parted for air, their chests heaving as each of them tried to drag in breath. Ron felt weak; his legs could hardly hold him up, let alone Hermione who was sagging against him. He shifted so that he was now leaning against the door to brace himself and then wrapped his arms around her.   
  
"Are you okay?"   
  
"Mmm hmm," she purred, her breath hot against skin. "Just dizzy."   
  
Hermione was tracing little circles over his shoulders and down to his chest. Her fingers brushed teasingly over the hair that grew there, and shivers of delight followed her touch. Burying her face against his chest, she placed a kiss there, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning out loud.   
  
She nipped then sucked softly on the pulsating hallow at the base of his throat. His eyes rolled back and Ron couldn't help the sound that escaped him as his head fell back against the wood. He felt her smile against his now exposed neck, as she proceeded to lick and kiss his burning flesh. She was drugging him, he felt himself drowning quickly--willingly.   
  
Ron laced his fingers into her hair as she kissed a trail over his collarbone and began branding the other side of his neck. Her hands were still running over his chest and venturing lower to his stomach, making his muscles clench painfully.   
  
"Mine," she breathed almost incoherently against his skin.   
  
"Yours," he agreed without hesitation. He felt like he'd was dying from the pleasure. "Most definitely yours."   
  
His statement earned him another brilliant smile pressed against his neck. "You want me."   
  
"Oh fuck, yes." He groaned, fighting down the urge to grab her and show her just how much.   
  
Hermione's hand drifted past his stomach, lower over the button of his jeans. Her fingers traced the line of his erection through the thick material, and Ron sucked in a sharp breath so forcefully he was surprised his lungs didn't burst.   
  
"Shit. . . Hermione. . . Don't. . ." He thrust against her hand, not even knowing what the hell he was trying to say.   
  
She frowned when she discovered how tight his trousers were. "Does it ache?" Hermione asked, looking up at him with wide brown eyes that were swimming in desire.   
  
"Yes."   
  
She nimbly undid the first button, and Ron had to grit his teeth. He was trying very hard to hold on to his last scrape of sanity; because it was obvious Hermione had lost hers. He grabbed her hand, stopping its endeavor to free him.   
  
"You do that and we'll both be different tomorrow, Hermione," he snapped in warning, feeling the need to be brutally honest with her.   
  
"It could be a secret," she said, biting lip, looking guilty. "You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"   
  
"No, but--"   
  
"I ache, too. . . I want it to stop, Ron," she pleaded. "Please, make it stop, just for tonight.   
  
There was no way he could say no to that. It just wasn't in him. Her words set him on fire. She ached for him. He hadn't ever heard anything that had affected him more profoundly.   
  
"A secret?"   
  
"A secret," she agreed, still biting her lip.   
  
He reached down and freed it, tracing the line of her bottom lip that was full and lush, begging to be kissed again. "I can keep a secret."   
  
He leaned in to capture her mouth, and she retuned the kiss with reckless abandon. They'd keep it a secret, so it was okay, all of it. No one would know and they could do whatever they wanted. He pushed her pink dressing gown off her shoulders to land in a pile on the floor. His hands explored the soft lines of her back, her waist, her hips, through the sheer material of her nightdress. She was so beautiful, how he hadn't figured out that she was his before now was beyond him.   
  
_His..._   
  
It felt so good, the knowledge that she really was his for the taking, and she'd be his forever, of that he was certain. Medallion or no, she was made for him. Every part seemed to fit perfectly, even her incessant nagging made sense at that moment.   
  
Hermione fumbled with his jeans, but he pushed her hands aside to take over, not knowing how long he'd last with her fingers brushing against him like that. He was on the brink of madness already. Now that the decision had been made, it was torturing him, the drive to actually claim her. He throbbed with need for her. He'd kicked the bloody jeans off, and sighed in relief against her lips. Newly liberated and cad in nothing but his boxers, he thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth, exploring the recesses of it.   
  
  
  
Hermione was swimming in sensation as Ron possessed her mouth with his. Blindly, they stumbled back towards his bed, tripping over the mess scattered about the floor until they crashed to his bed, his weight falling heavily on top of her. He tried to angle away, but she reached up and pulled him back down, her fingers running over his shoulders and down his back.   
  
"I like you on of top me. It feels good," she said, loving the feel of Ron pressing her to the bed, his body heavy on hers.   
  
He leaned in to place a kiss behind her ear, and she mewed in acceptance, tossing her head to the side, inviting him to do it again. He proceeded to kiss, and lick at the sensitive skin of her throat. Sparks of pleasure went off everywhere that he touched. She wanted more. Ron had overtaken her senses and bewitched her into giving him everything. She'd do just about anything to have him now. She could think about the rest tomorrow, for now she just wanted to feel.   
  
"Take it off," Ron said in a low voice, pulling at the material of her nightdress. "I want to see you."   
  
She wasn't one to be told what to do, but with this, she complied, sitting up slightly, pulling the nightdress off and tossing it on the floor.   
  
Hermione's pulse jumped erratically when she saw his gaze rake over her body, raw and hungry. He stopped to eye breasts in awe and reached out to gently outline one with his finger. As though entranced, he dipped his head and flicked his tongue over the tip, watching it pucker and harden. Her eyes drifted shut when Ron pulled the taunt peak fully into his mouth.   
  
His mouth moved over to the other breast, teasing it in the same torturous manner. His hands skimmed slowly down her body to her thighs, moving them apart to lie between them. She felt his arousal through the thin layers of their undergarments, and she instinctually arched into him. The emptiness was keenly noticeable now, the throb to still the madness, to be whole and full and one with him.   
  
She angled her hips, and moved against him in such a way that bolts of sheer ecstasy darted through her. A low growl came out of Ron, vibrating against her skin as he moved down, breaking the contact of their lower bodies. His Quidditch roughened hands ran from her waist, down her legs, taking her knickers with them, exposing her completely to his hungry gaze.   
  
Still looking at her body, he slid one hand to the moist brown curls at the apex of her thighs. Hermione pitched beneath him when his fingers parted her to explore her aching womanhood. He teased, but she was impatient and grabbed his hand, guiding his fingers over her in the way she knew worked the best. When he caressed just the right spot, she let go, her hands fisting in the sheets.   
  
"Yes, Ron, just there. . . Don't stop," she whispered frantically as she tossed her head back, burying it deeper into the pillow.   
  
She was right there, that wave of bliss was just beyond her reach. Ron's lips were on her stomach, moving lower, nipping at her sensitive skin, and it was just compounding the pleasure, making it magnify with every heart throbbing second.   
  
"You smell like sex," Ron breathed against her thigh. "I want to taste you, Hermione. I want to taste how much you want me."   
  
Hermione lifted her head in astonishment, and shock pooled hotly in her stomach when she watched Ron's mouth move over her without invitation. His tongue touched her intimately, and a moan of ecstasy slipped past her lips   
  
On their own accord, her fingers laced into his red hair and she held him to her as she writhed beneath him. His mouth loved her, licking, sucking, making her whole body flood with pleasure. It was such a new and startlingly wonderful sensation. She was shaking from the sheer intensity of it, never had she come close to feeling anything like this on her own.   
  
Still, there was something missing, she wanted Ron with her. She was overwhelmed with pleasure, but she needed to share it, wanted Ron to feel it too. She didn't want to find release without him. For some reason, she felt there was something very important about them finding that oblivion together the first time. As much as it pained her, she pulled on his hair, forcing him to stop and he looked up at her in surprise.   
  
"I wanted to hear you," he said in disappointment. "You were close."   
  
Hermione ignored him and tugged at his shoulders until he was completely covering her, his face hovering above hers. Silently, she reached down, and pulled at his pants, sliding them over his hips until he shifted and kicked them all the way off him.   
  
Her breasts tingled against his hair-roughened chest, and her heart nearly burst with the love she felt for him as their eyes locked. She caressed his cheek, then slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him deeply, tasting herself on him, and loving the intimacy of it.   
  
She spread her legs to cradle him between them, and they both shifted their bodies until his erection was pressing at her opening. They were breathing heavily, their chests rising and falling sharply as they tried to draw in breath. Ron was shaking even more violently then she was; she could feel the need pulsating off his body. They'd waited long enough, he was hers, and she wanted him. His hard naked body was pressed against her, and it felt right. All of it.   
  
"I wanted you inside me when I came," she said in answer to his early complaint. "I want us to come together."   
  
Ron didn't need further encouragement, and took her with one hard thrust, filling her completely. Hermione's nails dug sharply into his back at the first stab of pain, but then a dull hum of happiness surrounded her almost instantly. She could feel a crackle in the air, that spark of natural magic she hadn't noticed since she was a child. She felt whole and complete, realizing suddenly how completely empty she'd been without him.   
  
Hermione looked up at Ron wide-eyed, and he stared back looking just as astonished. It was incredible, the most amazing feeling she'd ever had in her life. It went far beyond physical pleasure, it deeper than that, a flooding of wonderful joy that warmed her soul from the inside out.   
  
She would have said something, but Ron moved inside her, and her eyes squeezed shut at the ripples of fiery pleasure that seared though her. She whimpered and he did it again, pulling partially out of her and thrusting back in fully.   
  
"Again," she pleaded, aching her back so she could have as much of him inside of her as possible.   
  
Another hard thrust, more confidently this time, and Ron gave his own animalist growl. Then together they were lost in a hot tide of passion. Hermione's breath came out in long surrendering moans as they moved together. The throbbing at her core radiated outwards until her whole being was reaching for completion. Ron was thrusting harder and faster and finally, with a cry of ecstasy, she soared to an awesome shuddering rapture. The pleasure was so powerful that she only vaguely heard Ron's groan of release as his body tensed above her and the warmth of his seed filled her.   
  
She was gripping his shoulders, holding him to her as they rode out the storm. After what had seemed like an eternity, the last of the tremors subsided, and Ron moved off her. She moaned in loss, terribly afraid of the emptiness.   
  
"Shh, I'm right here," he said distantly, his voice sounding heavier than she'd ever heard it as he gathered her to him.   
  
Hermione's pulse pounded in her ears as she laid her head on his warm chest. Strangely, she noted that Ron's heartbeat was in perfect synchronicity with hers despite his larger size. The crackle of magic she sensed earlier was stronger, filling the air and making her feel heavy with happiness. Ron's breathing had already fallen into the steady rhythm of deep sleep. He was dragging her down with him and her own consciousness started to ebb.   
  
Sated, and weak from everything, she fell into the darkness, not thinking anything about silly medallions or frivolous love spells.   
  
  
  
**RedBlaze Author's Notes :** Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It is amazing, the response we've got and it's really put the joy back into writing for both of us. A big thanks to Claireyfairy1 for all her hard work as beta. And, hugs to ShellyK for being a great partner and still loving me despite all my whining.   
  
  
  
**ShellyK's Author's Notes :** *faints* Woohoo! Smut! *grin* She's good, ain't she, our RedBlaze? I love ya, baby!   
  
Before I sign off, I just wanted to tell all of our reviewers that we really appreciate every single one of your comments. We really do read them all, and wish we could thank you all individually. Please rest assured that we love you all for your support.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_They ran across the grounds, hand in hand, running like their lives depended on it._ __  
The wind whipped around him, and though he ran urgently, he felt happy, truly happy for the first time in longer than he could remember. His legs were much longer than hers, so she had to run doubly fast to keep up with his strides, but when he looked at her, she didnÕt seem to mind. In fact, she looked as happy as he felt. Finally, they had found each other, and he wouldnÕt let her go. So they ran together, away from everything except each other.  
  
Once they reached the large oak tree that stood nearest to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione threw herself on the ground, laughing that intoxicating laugh. The sound resonated through out his body. It felt right. They felt right. Ron joined her on the damp grass, and lay down on his side, his head propped up by his arm, elbow on the grass. He studied her openly.   
  
ÒYouÕre beautiful when you laugh.Ó  
  
ÒOnly when I laugh?Ó She was teasing; he found he rather liked this side of her.  
ÒNot only when you laugh. YouÕre especially beautiful when we make love.Ó  
Hermione didnÕt blush Ð neither did he Ð but she did smile the most radiant smile he had ever seen. He could feel the warmth from that one smile scorch him to the core. ÒI love it when we make love.Ó  
  
At those words, his body responded immediately.   
  
ÒSo do I.Ó  
  
HermioneÕs smile turned wicked, mischievous. She licked her lips, causing Ron to groan. He didnÕt know how he was controlling himself, how it was that he hadnÕt torn her clothes from her body just yet and loved her like she deserved to be loved. No. Something was telling him to hold back, and watch. It was an urgent feeling he had, that he should wait and see.  
  
Ron was rewarded for his patience.   
  
She crawled to him, with predator like grace, her desire for him plain on her face. Silently, she removed his clothes; RonÕs only movement was to help her rid him of his restrictive clothing. He was naked before long, though Hermione was still fully clothed. He tried to reign in the anticipation he felt when he looked into her eyes. She wanted him Ð of that, he was eternally sure Ð and he wanted her more than life itself. She was his breath, his water, his life. There would never be another.   
  
Ron sat up, propped up against the tree, and watched her, fascinated. She was on her knees, kneeling in between his legs, making Ron and Hermione eyelevel with each other. His eyes shut of their own volition when HermioneÕs lips brushed his. It was only a tender touch, fleeting, but it was enough to enflame his desire. Anything this woman did affected him deeply, even the simplest of touches. He wanted so much to bury his hands in her wild hair and pull her roughly to him, but he didnÕt. Something told him she needed to do this her way.   
  
So, he let her take the lead.  
  
Their kisses were soft and gentle, sweet nips and bites, nothing fierce, only barely touching. It was enough to drive him mad. He had the distinct impression that was exactly what she was doing, in fact. Slowly driving him mad, with that mouth and that tongue that licked his skin so enticingly. God, she was killing him!  
  
He didnÕt even realise he had moaned her name until he felt her smile against his cheek. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. He could feel it. And she was enjoying it. Before long, that tongue of hers was licking a path down his chest, where she briefly became acquainted with his nipples. Torture and bliss, both interchangeable at that moment, but he wouldnÕt have traded them for anything in the world.  
  
HermioneÕs hands explored his body, grazing his skin, eliciting moan after moan, and growl after growl. The slowness with which she was touching him was excruciatingly arousing. He had never been so hard in his life. Her small hand wrapped around his length, causing his head to fall back and hit the tree behind him. That felt so good.  
But when her mouth enveloped his length completely, he thought he would die from the pleasure. For months, he had fantasized about his mysterious woman, and what she would do to pleasure him, and this Ð the one where she sucked him Ð had been one of his most treasured fantasies. He could hardly believe that, after all this time, his dream woman was Hermione. And that she was taking him, hard into her mouth.  
The sight of her, with his cock sliding between her lips, was probably the sexiest thing he had ever seen. His fantasies hadnÕt even come close to this. Hermione looked so wanton, so wild, yet she was still his proper Hermione, as she was still fully clothed. His hands snaked themselves into her tangles of hair, guiding her movements gently, showing her exactly which rhythm would send him over the edge. But he had to hold back.   
  
ÒI want to be inside you, Hermione. Please, I need you,Ó he rasped, close to coming. He wanted to pleasure her as well.  
  
Gently, she released him. Her brown eyes radiated with passion, a passion he was certain mirrored his own. They both needed to feel each other. She rose to her feet then disrobed for him. Little by little, she exposed her skin to his gaze. She had such lovely skin, so soft and creamy. A womanÕs skin, not rough like his. An eternity passed before she was fully naked to him, and Ron took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her. The moonlight illuminated her perfectly. His eyes travelled the length of her legs, all the way up to that patch of curls found at the junction of her thighs. He licked his lips, as he took in the rest of her. Her stomach, smooth and soft, her breasts Ð oh God, those breasts Ð that felt like they were made just for him, as he knew they fit perfectly in his hands.   
  
Hermione came towards him, and straddled his lap. His erection probed her opening, and he could tell she was wet, so wet, and it was because of him. Then, she took his length inside her, swiftly descending upon him. They both cried out.   
  
They were joined again. Whole.  
  
Ron bent his knees, so Hermione could lean back on his raised thighs. She slowly moved up and down, his shaft sliding in and out of her. He leaned forward, dipping his head, and captured a nipple between his lips. Hermione moaned his name, begging him never to stop. His tongue swirled over her rosy flesh, making it pucker and harden under his touch. When he sucked harder, she shuddered and shivered, rocking her hips against him harder. Then, he released her, only to repeat the torture with her previously neglected nipple.  
  
They rocked together, the motion patient and deep. Ron was firmly buried inside her, never wanting to leave her warmth.   
  
Her mouth found his, but gone were the light kisses from before. Their kisses had become urgent and long. HermioneÕs tongue licked for entrance, which Ron greedily granted. Their tongues collided, sending shockwaves down RonÕs spine. HermioneÕs hands cupped his cheeks, as she pressed her body to his, chest-to-chest, skin on skin. He swallowed her moans, and she his. His arms wrapped around her waist, his hands landing on her hips.   
  
Their mouths parted, and Hermione panted, ÒFaster, Ron. Oh please. Faster.Ó  
  
And he did.  
  
His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her steady as, his own hips thrust up to meet her. Their skin slapped against each other, and the smell of sex hung around them. Ron needed her so badly, and he guessed Hermione felt the same, because she began bouncing up and down on his lap, hard, countering him thrust for thrust. Her hands fell between them. Ron almost came when he saw her touch herself. Without thinking, his hand joined hers. His thumb collided with her fingers, all vying for prime position. HermioneÕs head was thrown back, mouth open, a silent moan caught in her throat but unable to escape due to all the stimulation.   
  
When she came, she shuddered violently, her body tensing around him, and stiffening. She once again found her voice, as she screamed his name, causing it to echo all around them. Then, her body fell limply onto his, mewing contentedly, as he kept pounding into her.   
  
Hermione kissed his neck, sucking at the flesh, then whispered in his ear, ÒCome for me Ron. Be beautiful, and come for me.Ó  
  
Her words sent him crashing.   
  
Ron thrust hard, one last time, meeting her body. An animalistic growl escaped his lips when he spilled himself inside her.  
  
MineÉ 

*

  
Consciousness overtook him slowly, lazily, and he fought it with everything he had. Ron was having the most amazing dream, one from which he did not want to wake, but the crick in his neck was pronounced and uncomfortable. He tried to adjust his position. Funny. He couldnÕt really move. It felt like a weight was atop him because something was making it very difficult to do anything but lie there.   
  
His eyelid forced the sleep away, and gradually opened. Ron squinted as the morning rays hit him square in the face. It was almost like the sun was shining directly at him, illuminating his bed like a torch. And then he saw her.  
  
Hermione was lying on top of him, straddling his lap, her body softly flung forward so that she completely covered him. He moved, the crick in his neck flared up, and he realised he had been sleeping propped up against the headboard.   
  
But it was when Hermione stirred that he realised he was still inside her.  
  
Ron growled.  
  
This was just like his dream. In fact, it was almost exactly like his dream, save the oak tree near the Quidditch pitch. Bloody Hell. Had they? They must have! He was still tucked inside her quite comfortably. They had just made love in their sleep, and he hadnÕt been awake to enjoy it. Fuck. Well, he did remember the dream, and could remember that he did enjoy it quite a lot. A whole lot. He shifted again, causing him to bury himself deeper within her, and he hardened almost instantly, marvelling at the fact that Hermione could arouse him again so quickly.  
  
ÒDo that again, Ron,Ó Hermione mumbled sleepily, still not fully awake.   
  
Grinning, he complied. Who was he to deny a lady?   
  
He angled his hips, moving inside her slowly, fully. Hermione moaned, and a small, contented smile graced her lips. God, she was beautiful. Why had he never really noticed before? Well, that wasnÕt the complete truth. He _had_ noticed that she had grown up, quite a bit actually. But what kind of friend would he have been if he had let himself lust after her? Not a very good one. So how did he explain the fact that they had made love frantically last night, like it was the only thing they could do to keep from going insane, and made love again in their dream?   
  
Hermione would look at this logically, saying that the medallionÕs love spell had affected them, and that now that they had consummated, they should be going back to normal. The thing was, Ron didnÕt _want_ things to go back to normal. He wanted to be with her, always. Before this whole medallion thing happened, he had an okay life, despite the little fact there was a war going on. He was somewhat content with good friends and family, but it wasnÕt until the medallion that he realised that there was a significant piece of himself missing. It was like he was only a half person.  
  
That feeling, of being only half, had been replaced. Now, he felt whole, complete, and it was because he had finally opened his eyes and actually seen Hermione, not just seen the attractive girl she was, but also finally seen the fantastic woman she had become. She was annoying and pushy and beautiful and so fucking smart she scared him. And she was his. He promised himself he wouldnÕt let her go, no matter what. Ron had tasted life with her, if only a few hours, and he decided he rather liked having her in his arms, lying on top of him, practically suffocating him. Ron smiled at that last thought. As petite as he had always considered her, she was starting to get heavy. It was time to get up anyway.  
  
ÒHermione,Ó he whispered, and nudged her side gently. She didnÕt even stir. Ron tried again, this time louder, and it still didnÕt earn him a response. Well, heÕd have to take drastic measures then.  
  
Ron began laying sweet little wet kisses all over her eyelids, cheeks and mouth, all the while gently moving in and out of her. And while he had initially tried this method to wake Hermione up, he quickly found that he was enjoying this far more than he should. Especially since she dampened around him instantly when he thrust inside her.  
ÒMmmm. So nice. More,Ó she mewed.   
  
Encouraged, he thrust faster, causing his head to fall back against the headboard. His hands moved to HermioneÕs hips before trailing to her bum. He cupped her round bottom, loving the feel of her in his hands. He marvelled at the fact that, no matter where he touched her, she fit perfectly.   
  
HermioneÕs moans became louder when he touched her, and groggily, she opened her eyes, which Ron saw had an incredibly sated expression. She smiled, still quite heavy-eyed, and then kissed Ron.   
  
ÒGood morning, love,Ó Ron greeted softly.  
  
ÒÕMorning.Ó   
  
Her sleepy brown eyes fought to stay open, but were losing the battle since Ron was still lazily thrusting inside her. Then, her eyes snapped open, bright and panicked. Hastily, she tried to sit up, as she had seemed to realise she was lying fully atop him, however the only thing she accomplish was seating herself even deeper on RonÕs erection.  
Both cried out at the pleasure.  
  
ÒOh my God,Ó she breathed. ÒRon? What? When? Oh my God! Ron, I had a dream, and it was just like this, and oh my God! Did we do it in our sleep?Ó  
  
She was babbling. Apparently, Hermione had lost her mind. Not that he blamed her; he was confident that if he didnÕt finish making love to her, heÕd go right mad.  
  
ÒYes, I think we did,Ó he replied. ÒAnd if you donÕt mind, IÕd like to finish what we started.Ó He grinned cheekily, and to prove his point, he moved inside her.  
  
ÒRON!Ó   
  
He couldnÕt tell if she was scandalized or turned on. Ron suspected it was a little of both.  
HermioneÕs breathing accelerated rapidly, but instead of giving in to the desire Ron could see in her eyes, she rolled off him. Her breath hitched when her feet hit the cold stone floor. When she looked down, she must have realised she was fully naked because she squeaked and grabbed the sheet right off the bed to wrap it around her. Damn. Ron rather enjoyed seeing her naked.  
  
As it was, he wasnÕt wearing a stitch of clothing. He was lying on the bed, propped up on the headboard, his arm flung behind his head as a rest, naked and in all his glory. And, he still had an impressive hard on to boot. HeÕd have to do something about that shortly. Unfortunately, Hermione had begun pacing the room, tripping over the loosely wrapped sheet.  
  
Ron just watched her in fascinated awe.  
  
ÒOh my God,Ó she kept repeating, like it was a mantra, all while pacing and looking for her discarded nightwear.   
  
ÒInsanity!Ó she cried.  
  
Hermione crossed the room.  
  
ÒSurely, this is the medallionÕs doing.Ò  
  
She tripped over RonÕs shoe.  
  
ÒMadness!Ó  
  
The sheet fell precariously from her body, but she managed to snatch it, much to RonÕs chagrin. Bits of clothing were strewn around the room Ð from Ron having torn the room apart the night before Ð causing Hermione to trip every few seconds and the sheet to loosen around her. Many times, she had to catch it before it fell away. Each time Ron willed the sheet to fall completely away from her, and he sullenly discovered his telekinetic abilities were severely lacking.   
  
Then, she got a far away look in her eyes.   
  
ÒBut it was so niceÉ oh my God!Ó   
  
At this point, she was mumbling incoherently.  
  
ÒHermione, love. Please stop pacing. YouÕre making me dizzy.Ó His tone was playful, and he could see his eyes sparkle happily in the mirror, which was hanging across the room, over his dressing table.  
  
ÒHow can you be so calm?Ó She whirled to face him, slightly alarmed. Then, she noticed he was completely naked. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned away from him. ÒCan you please cover yourself up?Ó  
  
ÒWell, I would, except you seem to have stolen the sheet.Ó   
  
Ron knew his cheek was likely to get her angry with him, but there was something about an angry Hermione that appealed to him immensely. Perhaps it was the way her cheeks became a deep rosy colour, or the way her nostrils flared, or maybe even the way her eyes flashed. He couldnÕt pin point exactly what it was, but what ever it was, he found it strangely enticing.   
  
ÒRon! This is serious!Ó  
  
ÒI know. I happen to be the one freezing my bollocks off, while youÕre nestled cosily in that sheet.Ó  
  
ÒDoes _everything_ have to be vulgar and dirty with you?Ó  
  
ÒNo. Not everything.Ó He paused. ÒUnless you _want_ me to be dirty.Ó RonÕs grin widened when she blushed. ÒMy, my. The Head GirlÕs shy.Ó  
  
ÒRon! Stop it!Ó  
  
Giving in, he replied, ÒAll right. All right. Tell Ronnie whatÕs wrong.Ó  
  
ÒGod! YouÕre so infuriating!Ó  
  
ÒWhat? I asked you what was wrong.Ó  
  
ÒWell, you donÕt have to be soÉ soÉ infuriating!Ó  
  
ÒYes, I gathered that much.Ó  
  
She threw her hands up in defeat, which almost made the sheet slide right off her. Again, that bloody sheet thwarted Ron. He had half a mind to march over there and pry that sheet from her. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. That wasnÕt a bad idea at all. Ron climbed off the bed and made his way to Hermione, to stand behind her. She was staring at the wall, deliberately avoiding looking at him.   
  
ÒI didnÕt realise the stone was so interesting,Ó he whispered in her ear, making her jump. A blush crept over her shoulders and neck. The urge to kiss her rosy skin was practically overwhelming.   
  
ÒYou really should put something on, Ron.Ó  
  
ÒWhy? YouÕve seen me naked.Ó Hermione gasped at his forward remark. ÒWell, itÕs true.Ó  
  
ÒI was there, remember?Ó  
  
ÒOh, yes. I definitely remember.Ó She blushed fiercely once more. ÒYou donÕt have to be embarrassed with me, love.Ó His voice was deep and soft, trying to reassure her.  
ÒI know. ItÕs just thatÉÓ  
  
ÒJust that?Ó  
  
ÒItÕs just thatÉ this is crazy, Ron! We were under the influence of a love spell, and we made love! Twice!Ó  
  
ÒAnd it was very nice. Both times.Ó  
  
ÒRon! God, please be serious! IÕve molested you in your sleep, for GodÕs sake!Ó  
He fought the grin that threatened the corner of his mouth. It wouldnÕt do to have Hermione see just how amused he was. Molested him, indeed.   
  
ÒHermione, if I recall, I was a willing participant. More than willing, in fact.Ó  
  
ÒBut-Ò  
  
ÒBut nothing.Ó   
  
Ron gently placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to him. Then, he took hold of the offending sheet. He opened it, revealing her to him, and, using the fabric, which was still wrapped around her back, pulled her to him so they were standing chest-to-chest, their skin touching and teasing each other. The sheet fell silently to the ground, as Ron let it go and wrapped his arms around HermioneÕs waist.  
  
During all of this, Hermione held her breath.   
  
ÒI donÕt care about bloody medallions,Ó he started, and when Hermione tried to interrupt him, he shushed her.   
  
Ron picked her up, and before she could say anything, he placed her on top of his dressing table. He stared into her eyes; he saw desire there. Hermione bit her lip.   
ÒAnd I donÕt care about bloody love spells either. What I do care about is the fact that weÕre together and that weÕre good together, Hermione.Ó  
  
He spread her thighs wide, to accommodate him, and stepped in between her legs, his erection probing her, feeling just how much she wanted him. Ron had no doubt she wanted him.  
  
ÒAnd that no matter what, IÕm never letting you go.Ó  
  
She gasped when he entered her.  
  
Oh, it felt so good to be inside her again. This was where he was meant to be, with her.   
Like in their dream, Hermione didnÕt blush. Gone was the shy Head Girl from a few minutes ago. She had been replaced with the confident woman from last night. A woman who knew what she wanted. Their eyes held, never looking away. He moved inside her, slowly at first, but when Hermione began to moan his name, RonÕs control began slipping away.   
  
_FasterÉ_  
  
And he complied. RonÕs rhythm increased, pumping into her quicker, harder. HermioneÕs breathing accelerated in time with his thrusts. Her hips began rocking against his in counter-thrust. Still, their eyes were locked with each other.  
  
_DeeperÉ_  
  
Oh, God! He needed to get deeper, closer to her. Ron hooked his arms under her knees, bringing them up and out, opening her to him wide. He looked down to where their bodies joined. His shaft was slick and shiny because of how wet she had become, her curls damp with her arousal. The sight of him sliding in and out of her was intoxicating, almost sending him over. He angled, and dipped so deep inside her, they both growled. The sound coming from HermioneÕs lips was primal, the look in her eyes, feral.   
Her hand moved from the dresser, where she was bracing herself, and slid between their bodies. Fuck. If she kept doing that, he was going to come.  
  
_DonÕt stop!_  
  
He wouldnÕt. Not until she was screaming his name.  
  
ÒOh God! RON!Ó  
  
Her body shuddered violently, more so than in their dream. Her head flew back, hitting the mirror, almost knocking it off the wall. He never stopped pumping into her. Sweat slicked down his back; it dripped between HermioneÕs breasts. Ron dipped his head, and licked a trail up from her navel all the way to the base of her throat.   
ÒFuck, you feel good,Ó he rasped.  
  
Their hips met, slapping against each other, the sound of wet skin in the air. He wanted to come so bad.  
  
_Do it. Be beautiful and come for meÉ_  
  
The sound of her name falling from his lips bounced loudly off the stone walls. Ron thrust hard one last time, his back arching, muscles straining from exertion. He had never come so hard in his life.   
  
_I love you, RonÉ_  
  
ÒI love you too, Hermione.Ó  
  
She pulled away from him slightly. ÒWhat?Ó she asked, confusion lacing her voice.  
ÒI said that I loved you too.Ó   
  
ÒBut I didnÕt even say anything.Ó   
  
What was she on about? ÒYes you did. I heard you.Ó   
  
ÒI didnÕt say it.Ó Ron looked at her again, and somehow he knew she wasnÕt lying. She hesitated. Fear and awe were both present in her eyes. ÒI did _think_ it, though.Ó  
  
He stared at her, shocked.   
  
ÒWell, fuck me.Ó  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Ron Weasley was in a right good mood

Ron Weasley was in a right good mood. Not surprising, though, considering heÕd just had the best-damned sex of his life. Okay, so he wasnÕt that experienced on the whole sex scene aspect of life, as Hermione was the only woman heÕd ever done the deed with, but from what he could tell of his limited - yet extremely satisfying Ð experience that morning, on that very dressing table, Ron had experienced the most earth-shattering orgasm ever known to man. And, he was looking forward to repeating the experience with Hermione as many times as he could. In fact, if he had his way, they would have skived off classes just so he could hear her scream his name again. Unfortunately, Hermione didnÕt agree with him. Already distraught at the fact they had both missed last nightÕs meeting, she refused to give the Professors any more reason to divest her of her Head Girl title.  
  
He whistled a tune, the sound bouncing off the stone walls, echoing all around him. His tie hung loose and undone around his neck since he was still fastening up the buttons of his uniform shirt, which was rumpled from having been tossed onto the floor the night before. That morning, however, a few creases didnÕt bother Ron one bit. Before working on his tie, Ron ran his hands in his hair smugly, smirking at his reflection. The reflection returned the smirk in spades. Oh yes. This was definitely a good morning. Carelessly grabbing the ends of his scarlet and gold tie, he fastened it loosely about his neck, tucking it casually under his collar.  
  
ÒLooking good!Ó RonÕs reflection offered.  
  
ÒThanks, mate.Ó   
  
ÒWe should always start our day with a bit of a shag, donÕt you agree?Ó   
  
Ron paused, thinking of his reflectionÕs statement, and decided he agreed with himself wholeheartedly. ÒAbsolutely,Ó he replied, then reached over for his jumper, which hung recklessly off the back of his desk chair.   
  
The reflectionÕs grin broadened, as it began jerking its reflected hand back and forth in a masturbatory manner, quickly followed by an imaginary humping of air, which Ron decided was quite amusing. ÒEspecially with a choice piece of arse like her!Ó the reflection added.  
  
Any good mood Ron had suddenly disappeared. ÒDonÕt talk about her like that.Ó  
  
ÒOh, donÕt be so touchy, mate! That Head GirlÕs one hot little number! Had a particularly exquisite view of her bum, if you know what I mean.Ó  
  
Rationally, Ron knew that arguing with a mirror was never a good idea; mirrors were extremely stubborn, and seldom changed their minds. But the way his reflection was talking about Hermione Ð _his_ Hermione Ð made him very angry. No one was supposed to think of HermioneÕs arse but him, and heÕd be damned if he let anyone Ð or anything Ð get away with it, mirror or not.  
  
ÒI said donÕt talk about her like that.Ó   
  
Without even realising it, RonÕs fingers wrapped around his wand, ready for immediate drawing if the need ever arose. Training with the DA had honed his reflexes; he could throw hexes and curses before his opponent even had time to think about reaching for their wand. Of course, this wouldnÕt be much of a match, since the mirror could not strike back, but there had been cases of Mirror Self-Explosion, which resulted badly in all cases for the witch or wizard involved. Caution when dealing with magical objects was always recommended. Ron was never one to listen to caution.  
  
The reflectionÕs eyes twitched to the left, seeing that RonÕs hand was on his wand. It tensed slightly, but nothing more. ÒWhat are you going to do to me, Weasley? Blow me up?Ó  
  
ÒDonÕt tempt me, wanker.Ó  
  
Incredulously, the reflection crossed its arms over its chest. ÒYouÕd blow up your own reflection?Ó Ron didnÕt flinch. ÒFor a girl?Ó It was full of disbelief.  
  
ÒIn a heartbeat.Ó  
  
Ron saw a bit of fear in his reflectionÕs eyes, but it quickly disappeared. Then, its disbelief turned into shock, as the reflection seemed to realise something. ÒOh Merlin! YouÕre in love with this girl, arenÕt you?Ó  
  
Ron hadnÕt even needed to think about his answer. This whole situation with the medallion was just a catalyst for him, something that made him realise and admit to what had been there all a long. He knew that Hermione had reservations, still not completely convinced their sudden attraction for each other wasnÕt brought upon by some magical charm. Ron, on the other hand, never doubted for a minute his feelings were real. He knew he loved Hermione, and told the mirror as much.  
  
ÒNext youÕll be telling me youÕre going to marry her and have lots and lots of babies!Ó  
  
ÒOf course not!Ó That wasnÕt the complete and honest truth. All morning, he had been thinking about Hermione and what it would be like to wake up next to her each morning, making love to her as she woke. Ron fought his blush, and barely won the battle. ÒAt least not for a while.Ó The reflection snorted. ÒWhat?Ó  
  
ÒNot for a while, you say? I have some news for you, mate; I donÕt remember seeing you use any precautions for your impromptu shag sessions. And with you fertile lot of Weasleys, IÕd be surprised if little Miss Granger wasnÕt bearing twins as we speak!Ó  
  
ÒBollocks.Ó  
  
ÒDonÕt believe me do you? Do you honestly think youÕre the first Weasley IÕve seen doing the nasty with their better half?Ó Ron blanched. ÒIf I recall correctly, your eldest brother was conceived on that very bed.Ó  
  
Eyes widening, Ron felt faint. His breathing quickened, making him dizzy, and soon, he needed to sit down because he was certain he was hyperventilating.   
  
ÒCareful there, mate! Put your head between your knees and keep breathing,Ó the reflection coached.  
  
Ron obliged readily; he really didnÕt want to pass out because heÕd have a hell of a time explaining that to McGonagall. _ÔYou see, professor, I think I knocked Hermione up.Õ_ No, he didnÕt think that would go over well at all. Aside from the fact theyÕd probably lose the most house points in the history of Hogwarts, the news would inevitably reach his motherÉ.  
  
His _mother_!  
  
Bloody Hell. His mother was going to kill him. Ron might as well turn his wand on himself right now because the second his mother got wind of this, sheÕd send him into the next world. A fresh bout of panic surged through his body, this time almost knocking all wind from him. He pawed at his tie; it felt like it was choking him. He bent over in two, wedging his head between his knees in a vain attempt to steady his breathing. The mirror was being encouraging, but at that moment, all Ron wanted was to throw his shoe at the stupid thing to shut it up. Unfortunately, he couldnÕt move due to the fact that all the blood was rushing to his head.   
  
There was a frantic knock at his door.   
  
ÒRon? ItÕs Hermione. Open the door.Ó  
  
Ron forced himself upright, and caught his reflection in the mirror. His hair stuck up at all angles from having hung upside down. His face was a lovely shade of puce. Just perfect. Just the colour he wanted to be when he confronted his girlfriend with the fact they were most likely going to be parents.  
  
He opened the door, and Hermione gasped at his appearance.  
ÒWhatÕs wrong? Ron, what happened? I was getting ready when I could feel you ÐÒ   
  
Placing a finger on her lips, he shushed her, and subsequently dragged her inside his room, a dangerous prospect at this time of the morning, considering anyone coming from the dormitories could possibly see. It was forbidden to have girls in his room. Not that it had stopped him last night.  
  
He began pacing the room, not knowing exactly where to begin. Ron opened his mouth twice, and each time, nothing came out but a startled sort of squeak. Finally, Hermione seemed to have enough; she huffed and placed her hands on her hips in that annoyed way she did when Ron was really treading on her last nerve.  
  
ÒRon, are you going to tell me whatÕs wrong or am I going to have to guess? WeÕre going to be late.Ó  
  
Trying again, RonÕs mouth tried to form the words, but again, only silence. Hermione raised her eyebrow, tapped her foot impatiently and glared. Okay, she was getting angry. He better just get it over with, and deal with the aftermath later.  
  
He mumbled something quickly.  
  
Confusion creased HermioneÕs features. ÒWould it kill you to enunciate when you speak? I didnÕt catch what you said.Ó  
  
Now, _she_ was dancing on _his_ last nerve. Here he was, trying to break life altering news to her and all she could do was nag. God!  
  
ÒI said, youÕre pregnant.Ó  
  
Silence. Well, that wasnÕt going well, at all. She must be in shock.  
  
ÒDidnÕt you hear what I said?Ó Ron asked timidly, wary of HermioneÕs wrath when the shock of the situation wore off.  
  
ÒYes, I did.Ó  
  
ÒAre you angry?Ó  
  
ÒAngry? No. Confused? Yes.Ó  
  
ÒWell, itÕs not that confusing, Hermione. You see when a wizard and a witch love each other very much, they make love and then nine months laterÉ.Ó  
  
ÒI know that, you _prat_!Ó she said, swatting his arm, hard. He rubbed the tender spot on his shoulder where she had hit him. Hermione shook her head, and he heard her whisper under her breath, ÒIdiot.Ó  
  
ÒWell, why are you confused then?Ó He narrowed his eyes, and watched her, ready for anymore swatting attacks. Ron might be madly in love with this woman, but sometimes she just annoyed the shite out of him.  
  
ÒIÕm confused, Ron, as to why youÕre informing me that IÕm pregnant. I didnÕt realise you were so well versed in magical medicine.Ó She rolled her eyes.  
  
ÒIt doesnÕt take a genius, Hermione, to put two and two together on this. We didnÕt use protection! And IÕm a Weasley! The mirror is placing bets on the fact youÕre probably carrying twins as we speak!Ó RonÕs reflection nodded vigorously.  
  
Hermione took a steadying breath, like she was trying to get ready to speak to a small child. ÒRon,Ó she began slowly. ÒYou donÕt have to wager with your mirror as to your future offspring. IÕm not pregnant.Ó  
  
Ron blinked.   
  
His reflection blinked.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrow expectantly.  
  
ÒHow can you be so sure?Ó  
  
ÒRon, if you paid attention, youÕd know I decided, last year, to begin taking birth control potion.Ó  
  
ÒOy! I pay attention! I just fÑÓ He sputtered, as the reality of her words hit home. ÒWhat do you mean youÕre on birth control potion?Ó His voice took a dangerous edge. " _Why_ would _you_ need birth control?Ó  
  
She sighed, and looked at her watch. ÒRon, weÕre going to be late. IÕm going down to get a bit of breakfast, all right?Ó   
  
Hermione spun around quickly, and left him standing there, dumbfounded, his question still unanswered. It took him a few minutes to coax himself to move; he was still in shock. Hermione was on birth control potion. That could only mean one thing. Sex. Hermione had been contemplating having sex! Since last year! With random blokes! His shock made way to anger, and then jealousy.   
  
It was at that moment he realised that Hermione had left him alone in his room. He ran after her, determined. Hermione was halfway to the Great Hall when he caught up with her.  
  
ÒSo, who is he?Ó   
  
He would get to the bottom of this. He would find out exactly who this bloke was, the bloke who caused his Hermione to begin birth control. It had to be someone he knew. There werenÕt that many boys Hermione would be interested in. He could eliminate all the boys fourth year and under. And all Slytherins. That was relatively safe. HeÕd find out exactly who this guy was, and then, heÕd have to injure him. It was only proper, considering Hermione was his, and his alone.  
  
ÒHe who?Ó she asked, quite innocently.  
  
Ron could feel his neck burn and ears become red. Only Hermione could annoy him like this.  
  
ÒÕHeÕ. The one you started birth control for.Ó  
  
HermioneÕs eyes grew wide, and she shushed him vehemently. ÒRon! WeÕre in the hall. Anyone could hear!Ó she said, dragging him to a corner.  
  
ÒThen answer my question before someone comes along.Ó  
  
She glared, obviously unhappy at being cornered like that. Ron didnÕt care. He needed to know.  
  
ÒThere was no ÔheÕ, Ron.Ó He stared at her incredulously. ÒNot exactly. I was thinking one day about how irresponsible boys can be ÐÒ  
  
ÒOy!Ó  
  
ÒOh honestly, Ron! You canÕt possibly argue with that. You didnÕt cast any contraception charms last night. Nor this morning, for that matter.Ó Ron had the decency to look sheepish. She was right, of course. Damn. ÒCan I finish so I can have some breakfast?Ó He nodded. ÒAs I was saying, I was thinking and I decided that I should start taking birth control potion. Just in case.Ó  
  
ÒJust in case of what?Ó  
  
ÒWell, you see when a wizard and a witch love each other very muchÐÒ   
  
ÒI know that!Ó He could see her smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Good Lord, she was teasing him. How could she tease him at a time like this? ÒSo, what youÕre saying is: there is no ÔheÕ?Ó  
  
ÒRight.Ó  
  
ÒBut you said, ÔThere is no ÒheÓ. Not exactly.Õ What does that mean, Ônot exactlyÕ?Ó  
  
Hermione actually blushed. Not just the small, cute blush that would usually flood her cheeks when flustered. This was a full-blown Weasley blush. It must be good.  
  
ÒIÕm hungry,Ó she announced, and tried to slip past him. Fortunately for Ron, he had the quick reflexes of a keeper.  
  
ÒNot so fast, there, love,Ó he said, amused. ÒI think youÕre keeping something from me.Ó  
  
ÒItÕs nothing.Ó  
  
ÒI disagree.Ó  
  
ÒRon, please.Ó  
  
ÒWhat?Ó  
  
ÒIÕd rather not say.Ó  
  
ÒWhy not?Ó  
  
ÒBecause.Ó  
  
ÒHermione. Who is ÔheÕ?Ó  
  
You.  
  
He heard that. He heard that loud and clear. _You_.   
  
ÒMe?Ó  
  
She nodded timidly, clearly embarrassed at her admission, though it was never said out loud. It didnÕt matter. He knew. And now that he knew, it seemed everything clicked into place: Hermione fancied him. Had fancied him for a while, from the look of things. Amazing. Hermione fancied him.  
  
A cheeky grin spread quickly across his face. Just a few minutes ago, he had been so jealous of this ÔHeÕ, but now that he knew who ÔHeÕ was, RonÕs confidence doubled. ÒMe, huh? Tell me. Did I live up to all your fantasies?Ó  
  
He closed in on her, pressing her against the wall. Though she scowled, he knew it was just a formality. Ron could hear her breathing shallow, and feel the desire she felt for him. But when she answered, thatÕs when he thought he would lose it.  
  
ÒAnd more,Ó she whispered.   
  
Oh God! He was hard again. How she could affect him like that, he would never know, but he wouldnÕt give it up for the world.   
  
ÒDo you have any idea how much I want to make love to you right now?Ó   
  
ÒI have a vague idea, yes,Ó she responded.  
  
Ron leaned in, brushing his lips with hers ever so lightly. The kiss was so chaste that it made him burn. He wanted so much more. Ron moved to deepen the kiss when they heard voices coming down the hall. They quickly broke apart, trying their hardest not to look guilty.   
  
ÒHermione! There you are. IÕve been looking for you,Ó Ernie Macmillan wheezed, like heÕd been running. Ernie seemed to just notice that Ron was there as well. ÒOh hello, Ronald.Ó He then promptly turned back to Hermione, ignoring Ron.   
  
Ron narrowed his eyes. What did the little prat want? DidnÕt he realise heÕd interrupted something _important_?  
  
ÒWhat can I do for you, Ernie?Ó Hermione asked.  
  
ÒIÕve been looking for you.Ó   
  
ÒYou said that already,Ó Ron deadpanned.  
  
Ernie glared. Ron pulled himself to his full height, which was quite imposing, as he was the tallest of the Weasley clan. And, his vigorous Quidditch training ensured he was in the peak of shape. Macmillan, a bit on the short side, shrunk slightly at RonÕs imposing stance, though Ron had to give the Hufflepuff credit for growing a pair and not running away. Or perhaps that was just stupidity. HufflepuffÕs werenÕt the brightest wands in the bunch.  
  
ÒAs I was saying. I was wondering if you could help me, Hermione. This last Arithmancy problem is not co-operating with me. Perhaps you could explain where IÕm going wrong?Ó  
  
Ron snorted. Right. If Macmillan really wanted help with his homework, then Ron was a giant spider. Ron had always known the little wanker fancied Hermione, and he didnÕt appreciate him trying to make a move on his girl.   
  
ÒOf course, Ernie. When do you want to meet?Ó  
  
ÒI was thinking right now. IÕve left my books in the Great Hall. Shall we?Ó  
  
Hermione nodded, and Ernie beamed. RonÕs anger simmered. But, he was stopped short of hitting Macmillan with one thought.  
  
_I love you_.  
  
And with that one thought, all was well with Ron Weasley.   
  
ÒRon?Ó she asked, nodding towards the Great Hall.   
  
ÒYou two go ahead. IÕve forgotten something. Ò   
  
ÒAll right. IÕll see you at the table, then.Ó  
  
ÒIÕll see you at the table.Ó  
  
A small, beautiful smile graced HermioneÕs lips, a smile Ron eagerly returned, and a smile that caused ErnieÕs own to falter. It was a proud smile, proud that Ron hadnÕt pummelled Ernie, though he was still greatly tempted. Best save something like that for when Hermione wasnÕt watching. She would disapprove thoroughly of him teaching Macmillan a lesson in women etiquette. A bloke just didnÕt move on another blokeÕs woman without consequences. Ron would let it go. For now.  
  
He watched Hermione walk down the hall with Ernie, who was chatting enthusiastically before making his own way to the Great Hall for a bit of toast. And while Ron couldnÕt see HermioneÕs expression, he could feel just how frustrated she was with Ernie having interrupted them a few minutes ago. Unfortunately, she was much too polite to tell Ernie to go jump in the lake. Ron, on the other hand, would have been quite happy to say that very thing, but didnÕt. Hermione was proving to be a good influence on him, and that unnerved Ron a bit.   
  
It all began with the whole Prefect thing, and his bad boy image had gone down hill from there. Well, not that he had ever been much of a bad boy. He did, however, enjoy a bit of rule breaking now and then. Now, he was lucky if he broke one rule a day. Yes, Hermione was very much the positive influence on him. Perhaps it was time for him to corrupt her.  
  
Ron grinned at all the possible ways he could actually corrupt the incorruptible Hermione Granger, Head Girl and cleverest witch in a century.  
  
ÒWell, well, well. If it isnÕt our dear _Head Boy_!Ó  
  
He could recognise that voice anywhere.   
  
ÒSod off, Malfoy.Ó  
  
Malfoy did not sod off, but instead, fell in step with Ron, walking beside him. From the corner of his eye, Ron could tell the git was smirking. Bastard.  
  
ÒNo, Weasley, I donÕt think I will. IÕve decided to lower myself to your É level for a few minutes, in order to inquire about your whereabouts last night.Ó  
  
ÒI told you to sod off, Ferret!Ó RonÕs stride did not falter.  
  
Malfoy ignored RonÕs last warning. ÒYou see, everyone had their own little theory as to why the Head Boy and Head Girl missed the first Prefect meeting of the year. Not very responsible of you, I must say. In any event, I have my own theory. Care for me to enlighten you, Weasel?Ó  
  
ÒNo.Ó  
  
ÒYou seem to have an unusual spring in your step, Weasel. I think I know the cause of your extraordinary mood. Tell me, Weasel. Does the Head Girl live up to her name? Does the Mudblood give good head?Ó  
  
RonÕs temper snapped before Malfoy even had a chance to sneer. Within seconds, Ron held Malfoy by his collar, raising him off the floor, and smashing the Slytherin against the castle wall.  
  
ÒDonÕt you ever call Hermione that again.Ó Ò Ron shook Malfoy, causing his head to knock against the stone. A glimpse of fear shadowed MalfoyÕs eyes, but was gone instantly. ÒIÕm serious, Malfoy. If I hear one peep from you regarding Hermione, I will break every bone in your body. With my bare hands. Do I make myself clear?Ó Malfoy didnÕt respond. ÒIÕm talking to you, Ferret. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?Ó  
  
Reluctantly, Malfoy nodded. Ron nodded, and slowly let Malfoy down. Immediately, Malfoy brushed the creases from his robes, his eyes never leaving RonÕs. If he thought Macmillan had given him a death glare before, he was mistaken. The look Malfoy was giving him was more than a look of anger. It was a promise.   
  
Without a word, Malfoy turned on his heels and calmly walked into the Great Hall, as if he hadnÕt been dangling from RonÕs fists just a few moments ago.   
  
Ron shook his head. Malfoy had become much bolder recently, and Ron suspected it had something to do with the fact he had become of age. It was unconfirmed, but the Order was of the opinion that the young Master Malfoy had been initiated into the Death Eaters this summer. Ron, Hermione and Harry had been given specific instructions to watch themselves around the little ferret.   
  
As far as Ron was concerned, it was Malfoy who should watch himself.  
  
RonÕs stomach grumbled, reminding him it was time for breakfast. All thoughts of Malfoy banished, Ron entered the Great Hall.  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Hermione took a big bite of her scrambled eggs and at the same time,  
flipped through her papers, glancing at her schedule, trying to fit in some  
extra time for study

Hermione took a big bite of her scrambled eggs and at the same time, flipped through her papers, glancing at her schedule, trying to fit in some extra time for study. Her mind had been more than a little fogged since she'd returned to school, but now it felt startlingly clear, and she was determined to make up for the study time she knew she'd missed. The N.E.W.T.S were this year and she intended to do _ver_ y well on them.   
  
"Hungry?"  
  
Hermione nodded as she stopped reading to cut her sausage. "Famished, I feel like I haven't eaten in years."  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah, I can tell. I don't think I've ever seen you with so much food on your plate. You could put Ron to shame."  
  
Hermione looked up at Harry. "I missed dinner last night."  
  
"I know, and I heard you missed the prefect meeting, too. . . What happened to you two?" Harry asked, looking from Hermione to a spot way above her shoulder.   
  
"Sick," Ron answered without hesitation, flopping down into the seat next to her. "We must have caught the same thing."  
  
Hermione felt her breath catch, and her heart beat pick up a notch as Ron started piling food on his own plate. Just his nearness was enough to arouse her. Memories of the previous night and that morning caused her body to respond, and a hot blush spread over her face and neck. Instantly, pictures started swirling in her head. Erotic fantasies of running her mouth over Ron's hard naked body.   
  
"Stop that, please," Ron whispered low against her ear as he reached in front of her for an apple.   
  
Hermione snapped out of her daze to look at him, seeing that there was a flush on his face as well, and his eyes were hot with desire.   
  
"Sorry," she mumbled as she went back to eating her food.   
  
"For what?" Harry asked, his voice more than confused as he looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione.   
  
Ron shrugged, feigning indifference as he started eating. They fell into a comfortable silence, with only the chatter of the students around them filling the air. Hermione was lost in thought. Her mind was working in over drive as she tried to deal with this new set of issues in her life. The biggest problem she was facing was that she actually _liked_ the change. It wasn't just the sexual aspect, which she enjoyed more than she cared to admit; it was the companionship she shared with Ron now. She felt whole and complete. The insecurities she'd had before seemed to vanish, as if she somehow knew that the things she struggled with were the places Ron had filled in for her.   
  
She reached for the salt, sprinkling a little of it over her food, and only then did she look up to Harry who's mouth was hanging open as he looked back and forth between her and Ron with a sort of horrified fascination. He turned and shared a look with Ginny who was also watching them.   
  
"Wha?" Ron mumbled, looking at his sister across the table.  
  
"Did you just put salt on your grapefruit?" Ginny asked him, arching an eyebrow at Ron.  
  
"Lots of people eat them like that," he said defensively.   
  
"And, since when did you start eating grapefruit?"   
  
Ron looked down, as though only just realizing that he'd actually been eating something good for him. Hermione too glanced at his plate, and noted that the grapefruit wasn't the only thing healthy he'd selected. Why his whole breakfast was worthy of someone who tried very hard to eat a balanced diet. Then simultaneously, they both looked to her plate, which had every sugar filled thing they seemed to offer for breakfast at Hogwarts, not to mention more animal fats than Hermione usually ate in a month.   
  
The solution seemed obvious to both of them, and with out hesitation, they simply switched plates. Hermione did wrinkle her nose at the salt covered grapefruit, pushing it aside just as Ron handed her another slice. She cut her bran muffin in half, stopping only to hand Ron the jam.   
  
"Do you two see yourselves?"  
  
Hermione paused, her muffin half way to her mouth, and stared at Harry in surprise. She looked back at Ron, with his jam-covered toast in hand, and he shook his head, turning his attention back to Harry who seemed to be very upset.   
  
"What's the problem, mate?"  
  
"You just switched plates!"   
  
"I don't really like grapefruit," Ron said, pulling a face. "Ginny was right."  
  
"Yes, I try not to eat too many saturated fats," Hermione added soothingly. "And, refined sugar is really bad for you."  
  
Harry just gaped at them, then looked at Ginny as though willing her to speak for him since words seemed beyond him.  
  
"It's more than that," Ginny said, gesturing between the two of them. "You're doing all the same things at the exact same time. It's really. . . bizarre. It's like you are in sync or reading each others minds or something."   
  
"Really? It must just be a coincidence," Hermione said, looking back to Ron, and knowing that it probably wasn't.   
  
"And, the jam, you just handed it to him without him asking," Harry barked.   
  
"Ron always eats jam on his toast," Hermione said as though it were obvious. "Don't you, Ron?"  
  
"Always," he agreed.   
  
"See, it's nothing."  
  
Harry frowned, his keen seeker eyes shifting back and forth between her and Ron, but he said no more, instead focusing on his own meal, and looking even more morose than usual. Hermione sighed, thinking that perhaps they should tell him. Her cheeks heated up at the thought of Harry finding out about just how intimate she and Ron had become. They'd probably shock him for life.   
  
Laughter filled her head, Ron's laughter.   
  
_He wouldn't be that shocked._  
  
Hermione wasn't going to honour his thought with a response. The only thing she did bother thinking about was how to get her and Ron out of the mess they'd got themselves into.   
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  
  
Hours later, Hermione sat in the library surrounded by books. She sat at a table in the very back, hiding because of the sensitive nature of her research. Books on everything from simple love charms, to complex sex magic lay stacked on the table around her.   
  
The longer she looked, the more frustrated she became. The sexual attraction was easy enough to explain, there were hundreds of spells one could cast to increase desire between two people, but the connection they shared was alarming. It wasn't common, even in the wizarding world. People just didn't hear each other's thoughts unless it was something dark, like Harry's connection with Voldemort.   
  
She refused to accept the soul mate explanation that they had originally discovered when researching the amulet. It was a far too fanciful reason. She didn't even believe in mythological gods, and she certainly didn't think they were making magical necklaces that just happened to find their way underneath Harry's bed at Grimmauld place.   
  
What rubbish. . .   
  
She knew there was another answer, but where? She'd been reading for hours, and had come up with nothing even remotely close to the problem she and Ron were now facing. If she didn't figure out something soon, she'd have to go to Professor Dumbledore.   
  
Hermione had to force down the urge to panic. Having sex with a fellow student was serious offense. The consequences of what they'd have to admit in order to fix things where painful to even think about. At the very least, they'd lose their titles as Head Boy and Girl, and at worst, they'd be expelled.   
  
Hermione rested her forehead on her hand, and tried to clear her thoughts. What an annoyance it was to constantly have to taper her personal feelings and thoughts for fear of Ron nosing in them. She'd left him working on piles of homework with Harry, but now, she noticed that his mind wasn't focused on Potions or History of Magic anymore, rather it was thinking about her.   
  
"Hermione."  
  
She jumped, and whirled around to see Ron leaning against the table next to hers, eyeing her suspiciously. How had she missed his intent to search her out? It was obvious that she was so distracted with other things that she just hadn't been paying attention.   
  
Ron stepped forward and picked up one of the books her table.   
  
_"Sex Magic, Explore the hidden secrets of the ancients,"_ Ron read aloud, and then stopped to look up at her, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Looking for ideas?"  
  
"It's not that--" Hermione started, and then frowned at him. He had piles of work when she left. There was no way he could be done. "I thought you were catching up on your homework. You have a responsibility as Head--"  
  
"Done," Ron said smugly, and then reached for another book.   
  
"You can't possibly be."  
  
"But, I am. . . I even wrote a eight inches more than required on my Potions essay, won't Snape be surprised," he said, as he read the title of the next book, and then to her disgust, started flipping through it.   
  
She reached over and jerked the book out of his hands. "I want to know how you finished so fast."  
  
"Dunno." He shrugged as he pulled out a chair next to her, and started sorting through the rest of the books she was reading. "What are you doing with these? Half this stuff is illegal. . . Though, that sounds pretty interesting."   
  
Ron pointed to a crude drawing of two people taken from the magical version of the Kama Sutra, and then he pulled it closer to examine it. Hermione huffed at him, and closed the book. He had a one-track mind.   
  
"Ron, your work. . . You've never finished that fast. I want to see it."  
  
Ron looked at her incredulously. "What are you, my mother? I told you I finished, and I meant it. I'm sure you could tell if I was lying to you."  
  
Hermione had to grudgingly admit that he was right. She could tell he was being truthful. She rested her face in her hands, and groaned. She was willing to bet that if she did look at his work, it'd sound a lot more like hers, than his. At this rate, they'd be expelled for cheating before anything else.   
  
"It'll be okay," Ron said soothingly, apparently reading her thoughts. "You can look it over if you like. We can fix the parts you think are suspicious."  
  
He reached out to rub her neck, and pleasure zinged through her. His hands felt so good on her skin. She could let him touch her all night. Out of nowhere, the friction built between them, sparking in the air, and making Hermione's breathing go shallow.  
  
"Why don't you come back to my room again tonight," he whispered against her ear in a voice heavy with lust. "You could check my work there."  
  
"Ron, no. . ." Hermione snapped, her voice sharpened with repressed desire. "Don't you see? We're going to get caught. We need to stop this."  
  
"I don't want to stop it," Ron said, hurt. "This is the best thing that ever happened to me. I've never felt so good."  
  
"Just because something feels good doesn't mean it's okay. Some of the darkest spells make you feel good for a bit. Look at the imperious curse." Hermione sighed. "I'm going to have to tell Dumbledore."  
  
"You're mad!"  
  
"Shhh," Hermione scolded.   
  
_You're mad._ Ron repeated in his mind. _He'll tell my mum!_ __  
  
What if it's dangerous? For all we know, it could be dark magic causing everything.   
  
Telling my mum is dangerous. She'll kill me. Ever since Bill got that girl pregnant, she's been a fanatic about things like this.   
  
Ron, I've worked for years to get to this point. I could lose everything. People are already starting to suspect things-Look at Harry and Ginny. They know, they all know. . .   
  
Hermione could feel herself panicking. How could she face her parents after being expelled?  
  
_Plenty of people have relationships, Hermione. We're not the only ones. We won't get expelled._ __  
  
We had sex, Ron. It just isn't done!   
  
Ron reached out and brushed a few locks of hair off her face and neck, and then leaned down to place a kiss at the base of her throat. Hermione shivered, feeling the ache build stronger within her as she tilted her head to the side.   
  
"It's done all the time," Ron whispered out loud against her skin as his hot breath caused the longing to wind tighter. "You'd be surprised."  
  
Hermione gasped in astonishment at the stray thought she caught off Ron. Something so shocking, it would have been enough to snap her out of the sexual spell Ron had so easily cast over her-but then he kissed her, and she forgot everything but the feel of his mouth over hers. She couldn't comprehend anything but the delicious thrill that went through her as his tongue thrust past her parted lips, and he explored her mouth possessively.   
  
"Come to my room tonight," Ron said when they parted for breath. "I want to make love to you again. I can hardly think about anything else."  
  
It was so scandalous, but it felt so right. When she was with him like this, it seemed like the whole world just disappeared. Having Ron's thought's in her head was obviously a very bad influence.   
  
"Will you sit down with me tomorrow and try to figure out a way to fix all this?" Hermione asked.   
  
_If that's what it'll take._  
  
Even Ron's voice in her head was filled with lust, low and husky, with the echo of sex in it. The sound drove her mad, and Merlin, he smelled so good. Hermione couldn't help but lean forward and bury her face in to the crook of his neck. Without thought, she ran her tongue over his skin, savoring the faint salty flavor that lingered in her mouth.  
  
"Oh, fuck," Ron groaned out loud, as his head lulled to the side, and his hand fisted in her hair.   
  
_Will you bring the medallion?_ __  
  
Yes! Anything you want.   
  
Hermione realized that Ron wasn't really hearing her. He'd promise anything she wanted to sate the hunger. She knew without looking that he was hard with arousal, but for some reason, her hand drifted to his lap anyway, feeling the solid length of him through his trousers. It'd be so easy to just lower the zip, and touch him in earnest. In her dream she'd put her mouth on him, but she longed to do it reality. She loved the male taste that clung to Ron. It was like an aphrodisiac. She could only imagine what'd it'd be like if she ran her tongue over him and then-  
  
"Forget it," Ron rasped, jerking her suddenly out of her seat and pressing her against the rear wall. "I can't wait."  
  
They were in the back of the library, no one could see. She'd just feel a little. Hermione undid the button and the zip of his trousers, and reached past his boxers to touch him. He was so hard, but the skin was smooth as silk, sliding easily against her hand as she stroked him. She delighted in his near pained moan, and even the fear of being caught couldn't dull her smile.  
  
Ron's lips claimed hers in a savage kiss. His tongue plundered her mouth with unrestrained abandon. His hands gripped her backside, and lifted her higher against the wall, so that she had no choice but to wrap her legs around him to keep their balance. His hand slid to her hips, and Hermione gasped when she heard the sound of tearing fabric, and then shuddered at the feel of the cool library air against her mons.   
  
He'd ripped her favorite pair of knickers.  
  
"Sorry," he moaned against her lips. "I need to be in you. I can hear your thoughts, and they're driving me mad. You're so fucking sexy."  
  
She was slick with want, and he easily pushed himself inside her. White-hot pleasure burst through her, as Ron filled her completely, and then thrust against her roughly. He was savage in his possession of her; primitive in his need to claim what he felt was rightly his. Connected like this, Hermione could clearly hear his jumble of thoughts, and was floored at the sheer intensity of his feelings for her.   
  
She never imagined love between two people to be so all consuming, so desperate, but it was. It blocked out all reason. The pleasure built as their bodies pushed and strained against each other. Their lips met in wet, open mouth kisses, muffling the gasps and moans that surely would have alerted the others to their presence.   
  
His thrusts created a throb that centered where their bodies met, but was so intense it radiated outward, pouring into her limbs and tingling in her fingertips. Hermione felt herself rise to a peak and, for a brief moment, she was suspended there in ecstasy, but then Ron thrust harder against her, his muscles tensing as he obviously hit his own peak, and Hermione fell off the cliff into a sea of bliss. Her fingers laced into Ron's red hair, holding his mouth more firmly against hers as they both shuddered with the force of their orgasms. It was near silent on the outside, but in their minds it was raucous and made all the more intense because of the feelings they shared.   
  
Once the waves of rolling pleasure started to still, Ron ripped his mouth from hers to gasp for breath. His eyes were wide, a deep fathomless blue as he looked down at her. Too weak to stand up, he slid to the floor, pulling her with him as they crumpled to the ground.   
  
Now sated, Hermione suddenly realized where they were. Anyone could have come upon them. They could have been seen in the most compromising situation imaginable.   
  
Everything was completely out of control.   
  
"Shit," Ron said, his voice sounding strained with fear. "We could have been caught."  
  
They still could, considering the situation they were in. They were still connected with her destroyed knickers tossed aside, and his trousers shoved past his hips.   
  
"This is what I've been trying to say," Hermione rasped. "It's dangerous. All of it. We just completely stop thinking, Ron. That's bad."  
  
"You're right," he agreed, and reached down to cup her face tenderly. "Tomorrow we'll fix it."  
  
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. Just the thought of changing things back was painful, but it didn't matter. It had to be done before something dreadful happened.


	8. Chapter 8

Stop that

Stop that!"  
  
"Come on, luv, just one more go," Ron mumbled into her hair as his lips nuzzled against the nape of her neck. "You're so sexy when you first wake up. I don't even mind your morning breath."  
  
"Okay, get off me!" Hermione tried to crawl out of bed, but Ron had draped one strong thigh over her legs as his arm wrapped around her waist, hampering her struggles. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but all she succeeded in doing was arousing him further, and she could feel his erection pressing insistently against her lower back. "Bad breath," she huffed indignantly. "Your breath is no picnic in the morning, I'll tell you that."  
  
"Oh, you know you love it." Ron released her only to re-stake his claim by straddling her hips, and pinning her arms over her head so that his hard body was pressing enticingly against hers. "Give me a big sloppy kiss."  
  
He blew in her face, and Hermione tried to cringe away, but the feeling of his chest pressed against hers, his large hands wrapped around her wrists making her powerless to fight him, caused a rush of heat to spread over her body and pool at her centre. She wasn't as sore as she used to be in the mornings, and she found herself aching for him, wanting his hips thrusting hard against hers as they connected. She suddenly craved the hot, drugging friction that came from his body moving inside of hers.  
  
She looked up at Ron, seeing that his eyes had darkened. The playfulness turned decadent and sensual as he leaned down and captured her lips, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. His taste was intoxicating and Hermione was quickly lost in a haze of sexual pleasure as he carried out her thoughts. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he pushed inside her causing a wave of warm bliss flow over her.  
  
Ron's movements were almost lazy as he thrust slowly in and out of her. Their bodies moved in fluid harmony as she arched up to meet him, whimpering as the kindling fire inside her leisurely built to a raging inferno. She ran her hands over his broad back, feeling his muscles tense under her fingers. Ron's breath tickled the fine hairs at the nape of her neck as he buried his face into the curve of her shoulder. In her mind, she could hear his words of adoration, see pictures of herself as wanton and wild, and knowing Ron saw her like that only added fuel to the flames.  
  
Hermione had never felt more intimate, or close with anyone in her life. She knew that Ron was the only man she'd want hard and naked and desperate for her, with their bare bodies straining against each other, always trying to get a bit closer, to touch and tease and satisfy until they were both weak and sated.  
  
Ron's thrusts were harder and more erratic. Hermione could feel her own release bubbling up inside and her nails sunk sharply into Ron's freckled shoulders as her head tossed on the pillow and her back arched, her whole body straining for ecstasy.  
  
_Let go for me, luv. I want to watch you come apart._  
  
Hermione's eyes snapped open and she found herself drowning in Ron's gaze, seeing his love for her reflected in the indigo pools. His face was strained but he didn't turn away as he thrust into her harder, finally pushing her over the edge, his words like a command throbbing in her mind.  
  
Pleasure pulsed through her whole being. Hermione couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut again as she shuddered and cried out, her fingers tangling into Ron's fiery hair, her heels digging into his lower back as she held him to her. A few more shallow strokes, and Ron followed her into oblivion as he tensed, a low moan of release escaping past his lips before he bit gently at her shoulder to stifle it.  
  
"I love you," Ron whispered breathlessly.  
  
She brushed the sweaty stands of hair of his forehead, sighing. "I know."  
  
Ron pressed a kiss against her shoulder, licking gently at the place he had bitten just a seconds before. "I wish we could just spend all day in bed. I hate when you leave me."  
  
Hermione gave a breathless laugh. "I think we'd be missed."  
  
Ron groaned and rolled off her. She instantly missed his weight pressing her to bed, but Hermione knew she had to leave or risk discovery. She grabbed her wand off his bedside table and performed a cleaning charm on both of them.  
  
It was with a heavy heart that she got up, and slipped her nightdress over her head as Ron watched her. She still felt shy when he stared so boldly at her, but she forced those feeling into the back of her mind, choosing to enjoy the warm afterglow of their night together as she tied her dressing gown shut.  
  
Hermione let her eyes wander over Ron's naked body, as he lay sprawled out on the bed, totally comfortable. He had laced one arm behind his head and he presented such a lovely picture Hermione couldn't resist leaning over him for one more quick kiss.  
  
"I'll see you at breakfast," she breathed against his lips, and then quickly turned to leave before she could change her mind.  
  
  
Hermione was swift and silent as she made her way back to her dormitory. She never stopped being terrified that she'd get caught sneaking in or out of Ron's room, and she hated that she was forced to make such a risk everyday, but that never seemed to stop her from going to him.  
  
She sighed in relief when she finally made it to her room, and made quick work of gathering bathing supplies. The one bonus of waking up so early to sneak out of the Head Boy's bedroom was that she always had the Prefect bath to herself before the other girls woke up. She was usually dressed and ready for breakfast while the other Gryffindors were still rubbing sleep out of their eyes. They would often poke fun at her, asking her if she ever slept.  
  
If they only knew!  
  
She and Ron had been sincere when they agreed that they needed to find a way to reverse the magic that had connected them, but somewhere along the way they lost the drive. Classes, Head Boy and Girl duties, Quidditch, the DA, worry over Harry and Voldemort, it added up, and they never seemed to find the time to deal with something as trivial as a bit of love magic.  
  
After a few weeks, Hermione stopped nagging, and Ron stopped thinking on it altogether. Really, their lives were improved immensely by the connection, and neither one was eager to give up what they'd gained. Ron was doing better in his classes then ever before. Hermione had learned to relax a little, which was wholly welcomed with all the stress she'd been facing leading up to their final year at Hogwarts. Ron may have been alarmed when he started to really understand the House elves plight, and found himself knitting hats with Hermione late one night. Hermione discovered that talk of Quidditch wasn't nearly so boring and she actually found herself eager to look at the scores in the morning paper, but overall things weren't so bad, and their chess games had become far more interesting.  
  
They were never lonely, and that was welcomed too. Hermione was efficient enough at multitasking that she often found herself having mental conversations during Arithmancy when Ron ended up bored in divination, and couldn't help but pester her. While others passed notes in History of Magic, Hermione was usually trying to choke back laughter as Ron's voice filled her head, rambling on about something she may have not found amusing before, but was fully entertained with now.  
  
They'd even learned to deflect suspicion by sitting far enough away from each other during meals, and no one noticed when their movements would accidentally fall in sync. A few had commented that Hermione seemed to have become a bit dreamy, but they assumed that the stress had finally got to her. Harry did seem concerned when Ron's hand shot up in class with the answers before Hermione's, but he chalked it up to Ron being Head Boy, and had started calling him Big Head Boy just to annoy him.  
  
It was only at night, when Hermione lay alone in bed battling with herself that she started to worry. She didn't want to get caught sneaking up the Head Boys room, and every morning she swore that she'd never do it again, that they'd simply have to learn to control themselves, but the following night she'd lose the battle, and wind up padding quietly up into the boys dormitory, and slipping into Ron's room, where he was always waiting. It was to his credit that he never argued with her as she tried to dissuade herself from breaking the rules, but he always seemed relieved when she did show up, his face lighting up in a huge smile as he silently lifted his covers, letting Hermione crawl in bed beside him. And thus the cycle would begin again.  
  
If she were totally honest with herself, Hermione would admit that she actually liked sharing herself like this with Ron, because he was sharing with her his most intimate thoughts as well. She never realized just how alike, yet how utterly different they were, though their differences just seemed to compliment each other to the point of practical perfection. These last few months with Ron, joined, were the happiest of Hermione's life.   
  
A quick shower later, Hermione was dressing for breakfast, idly cringing at the fact they had Potions first period. She smiled. That must have been Ron thinking about Potions. True, it definitely wasn't her favourite class, mostly due to Professor Snape, but she enjoyed brewing the potions well enough, and thought herself more than competent in that department, despite the opinions of said Professor. Ron, on the other hand, despised potions with a passion, but needed the NEWT in order to be eligible for Auror training. So, it wasn't without a hint of annoyance, that Ron grumbled, in turn making _her_ grumble, about the injustice of having to take potions for the seventh year in a row.  
  
She made it down to the Great Hall first; they had devised a haphazard plan to not arrive at meals together, to deflect any kind of unwanted attention at their present state. So far, it seemed to be working, because no one was the wiser. Nobody seemed to suspect that there was more to Ron and Hermione than they let on. Not even Harry. Well, Hermione supposed Ginny suspected _something_ was going on. Ginny was very observant. However, Hermione was satisfied that Ginny only suspected Hermione and Ron were dating, and nothing else. Innocuous enough, though Hermione figured she'd soon have to face Ginny's inquiries. She'd cross that bridge when she got to that point. Right now, she was starving.  
  
People at the Gryffindor table had gotten used to seeing Hermione pile the food onto her plate. Now, on the other hand, Hermione was careful to select healthy foods, and not only sausages and eggs. She'd let Ron eat that. The thought half horrified her. One part of her scolded herself for letting Ron eat all that grease. But the other part of her, the _Ron_ part of her, thanked her for letting the subject go. Because honestly, what could be better than a good, greasy breakfast to fill one's stomach?  
  
She was peeling an orange when Harry and Ron walked in, plopping themselves across from her at the table. No one said anything. After all, Ron and Hermione had already greeted each other when he entered the Great Hall.  
  
"Good morning to you too, Hermione," Harry said, a touch of annoyance in his voice.  
  
"What? Oh. Sorry, Harry. I'm a bit distracted. Good morning."  
  
_Distracted? Is that what you call it now, luv?_  
  
_What would you rather I say, Ron? Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. Whenever Ron walks in the room, I want to shag him._  
  
_That's a start._  
  
Hermione snorted loudly, causing everyone at the table to look at her. Wide eyed, she forced a cough. "Ow, went down the wrong way," she informed everyone. They accepted her answer, but it was evident that nobody really believed her.  
  
"What's wrong with you, Hermione?" Harry asked.   
  
He'd been asking her this question, or variants thereof, for the past few weeks. Hermione still didn't know how to answer him. Instead, she avoided the question.  
  
"Oh look. Owl Post."  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  
Hermione was distracted. This didn't happen very often in class, especially not in Potions. But still, she was having a very difficult time concentrating on her cauldron. And it was all because of Harry and the damned Owl Post.   
  
When a large golden owl swooped into the Great Hall, dropping a neatly folded letter in Harry's porridge, Hermione was mildly curious. When Harry opened the letter, causing him to grin wickedly, Hermione was _considerably_ curious. When Harry blatantly refused to tell her whom the letter was from, Hermione was dying with curiosity. What made matters worse, it seemed Ron knew exactly who this mysterious sender was. And not knowing, not being a part of the little secret was slowly driving her batty.   
  
She'd tried to get Ron to tell her, bombarding his mind with a barrage of questions. The advantage - or disadvantage in this case - of being able to read each other's thoughts for so long was that they had learned to partition their minds so that they could still hold on to a bit of privacy. Ron was exceptionally adept at this partitioning, and this irritated Hermione.   
  
So, instead of concentrating on her potion, she was constantly trying to penetrate Ron's partition. She just wanted a glimpse - just a hint even! - of this secret pen-pal of Harry's. If she didn't find out soon, she was sure she would explode from the curiosity. Frustrated, she sighed. She never used to be this curious, especially not to the point of distraction, and especially not about something so trivial as a letter, but she was feeling this drive, this intense need to know. She figured Ron's nosy streak was catching up with her.  
  
_Hermione, stop it. I'm not going to tell you._  
  
_Oh please, Ron! You have no idea what I'm going through._  
  
_Actually, I think I do have an idea what you're going through. And trust me, luv. I sympathize with you. I really do. I just can't tell you; I promised Harry I wouldn't say. You wouldn't want me to break my promise, would you?_  
  
Damn him. She should have known he'd appeal to her sense of loyalty and moral obligation.   
  
Hermione huffed, but stopped prodding Ron for information. He was right. She would just have to suck it up, and live with not knowing. It hurt a bit that Harry was knowingly withholding something from her, but really, wasn't she doing the same to him? She really had no leg to stand on in that department. Until she told Harry about her and Ron, she really couldn't press him to talk about his private life. It stung that she was left out, almost surely because she was a girl, but what choice did she have? They couldn't tell Harry, not yet at least.   
  
Her potion was bubbling, and turning a disgusting shade of puce, which was right on the mark. _Good_ , she thought. She decided to stop thinking about Harry and his letter, and start concentrating on the task before her.  
  
She was almost through with her potion when she caught a stray thought from Ron.  
  
_I still can't believe Harry's shagging Tonks...._  
  
"WHAT?" she cried out, dropping all of her bats' ears in the liquid.  
  
For the first time in the history of her academic wizarding career, Hermione Granger's Potions cauldron blew up.  
  
The class was shocked. Hermione was stunned. Ron's eyes were wide. Harry gaped at her like a fish.  
  
Silently, Snape slithered to her workstation, sneering with unimaginable glee. "I've been waiting seven years to say this, Ms. Granger. Detention, due to your obvious incompetence with a cauldron."  
  
Gunk slid off Hermione's nose and onto Snape's shoe.   
  
"And Fifty points from Gryffindor for soiling my footwear."  
  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  
  
Ron reached into his locker, pulling out a clean pair of pants and trousers, making quick work of putting them on as he ran a hand through his hair, still wet from his shower. What a long day. He was still feeling Hermione's stress from her shocking Potion's episode, and it sort of killed the humour of the situation for him. True, Snape was a true fuck off for taking fifty points from Gryffindor and giving Hermione detention to boot, but it was kind of funny to see Hermione dripping with horrid purple potion. He just made sure to tuck his slight amusement in the very deep recesses of his brain, or he'd never here the end of it.  
  
She was such a wreck over the whole thing that he had to almost completely block her out of his thoughts just to concentrate of Quidditch. Besides, he had other things to worry about, like why Harry missed Quidditch practice. Ron had rushed through his shower and was already well past worry as he reached for his shirt, determined to go search him out, when the very person he was fretting over came around the corner.  
  
"You missed practice," Ron said, seeing the look of fury on Harry's face and feeling his stomach churn, hoping it wasn't something serious. "Is everything okay?"  
  
"Oh yeah, it's just lovely," Harry snapped.  
  
He lashed out before Ron could react, catching him hard in a jaw with a right hook that had a stunning amount of power behind it considering Harry was still a mite scrawny. Ron nearly lost his footing, but two years of Quidditch made him agile and he managed to stay up right. He rubbed his jaw and gaped at Harry, too stunned to feel anything but shock.  
  
"Have you gone mad?" he sputtered when he'd found his voice  
  
Ron narrowed his eyes, and leaned in closer, worried that Voldemort had done something to Harry. He was rewarded with another right hook. This one was powerful enough to knock Ron off his feet. Instinctually, he reached out, and gripped Harry's jumper and they both fell heavily onto the hard changing room floor.  
  
"Harry, stop, don't make me hurt you," Ron said desperately as he reached up to grab Harry's hand when he would have hit Ron for a third time. "Please!"  
  
Harry paused, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "How could you?" he rasped, glaring down at Ron in hurt and anger. "I trusted you!"  
  
"How could I what?" Ron said anxiously. "I have no idea what you're on about!"  
  
"You told her. . .You told her when you swore you wouldn't!"  
  
Saying the words seem to get Harry worked up all over again, and he shoved Ron roughly in anger. Ron could do nothing but lay there, breathing deeply, and trying not to panic. Hermione must have talked to Harry while Ron was too distracted with Quidditch to pick up on it, but what did she talk to him about?  
  
"What did I tell her?" Ron hedged, as he rubbed his jaw once more.  
  
Harry straightened his glasses, and rounded on him again. "As if you didn't know!"  
  
"Um. . ." Ron crinkled his brow in thought. "Was it the time we got pissed, and passed out in garden. . .'Cause Fred and George sent her those pictures; that wasn't my fault."  
  
Harry turned to him wide-eyed. "There were pictures?"  
  
"Yeah, the two of us passed out in our pants. . . That was too good to pass up," Ron said, trying not to wince at the memory as he got up, and sat on the bench next to his locker. "You know, I don't remember ever taking off my trousers. . .I think they had something to do with it."  
  
"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully, and then shook his head dismissively. "Anyway, that wasn't it. . .I'm talking about Tonks!"  
  
"Oh," Ron said, and then turned to Harry when the meaning set in. "Oh shit, Harry. . .You mean about Tonks and you. . ."  
  
"Yeah, about Tonks and me," Harry said, his face flushing once again in anger. "I just had to sit through a lecture from her about it. Do you know how embarrassing that was?"  
  
Ron made a face, inwardly cringing. He'd thought for sure that he'd blocked those thoughts from her. How the hell had she'd picked them up? "I didn't mean to tell her, Harry."  
  
"Fuck off! You don't accidentally tell someone something like that?"  
  
Harry looked ready to hit him again, but Ron was too distracted to be overly concerned about it. His mind was focused on something else.  
  
_Hermione!_ He screamed mentally. _How am I supposed to explain this?_  
  
Ron wasn't ready to spill his guts about his and Hermione's relationship, but he also wasn't too keen about taking the blame for telling Hermione something he'd swore to keep secret. Either way, he was an arsehole.  
  
_Tonks was taking advantage of him. He's just a child!_  
  
Hermione's voice was hot and angry in his mind, and Ron had to choke back the urge to lash out at her.  
  
_He's the same age as us! Merlin, fuck me!_  
  
He let lose a stream of mental curse words that had Hermione huffing.  
  
_Watch your mouth!_  
  
_It's my mind. I'm free to swear all I want!_  
  
He wanted to yell in frustration, and he finally did. "Bugger it all to hell!"  
  
Harry's fury seemed to quell a little, instead looking at Ron like he was mad. "You're losing it, Ron. I'm serious. . .I think you've taken on too much work. I can't believe you told Hermione about Tonks. I'll never be able to look her in the face again. . .Hermione. . .She's the biggest prude there is!"  
  
"I am not!"  
  
Both boys turned in surprise, and Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Hermione standing there, flushed and breathless.  
  
Harry gasped in surprise. "Hermione!"  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked, unfazed by both boys' look of horror as she walked over, and leaned down to peer closely at Ron. Her hand reached out as to touch his face. "Harry, he's all bruised! You hit him!"  
  
"I. . ." Harry stumbled, obviously at a complete loss.  
  
Ron was still gapping at her, but he was quickly recovering from his shock, only to realize that Hermione was in the boys changing room. There were naked blokes in the showers around the corner, blokes that weren't _him_.  
  
"This is the _boys'_ changing room!"  
  
"You were in trouble. I couldn't just let Harry beat you up!"  
  
Ron gripped her arm as he jumped to his feet, dragging her to the door, making sure to avoid the showers at all cost. "There are _naked_ men in here!"  
  
She sputtered, her face turning redder. "It's not like I haven't seen. . ."  
  
"Twenty points from Gryffindor!"  
  
"What?" Hermione gasped, her feet digging in where she stood. "You can't do that!"  
  
"Head Boy!" He pointed to his bare chest as though his Head Boy badge was still there. "I assure you, its well within my rights to punish you for being some place definitely OUT OF BOUNDS!"  
  
Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she looked at him in hurt and disbelief. "I was trying to _help_ you."  
  
"I've had enough of your help," he said, jerking her forward until they were out of the changing room and outside in the fading afternoon sunlight. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Have you taken leave of all your senses? Of course Harry was beating the shit out of me after hearing a lecture from you about Tonks! Who cares if he's shagging her? If anyone needs to get shagged its Harry! Bugger me! How could someone so smart be so fucking stupid?"  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Hermione snapped back, stabbing at his bare chest with her finger.  
  
"For what?!"  
  
"For insulting a fellow student and Head Girl," she sniffed, folding her arms over her chest smugly.  
  
"You've both gone mad," Harry said, shaking his head as Ron and Hermione turned to him in surprise, having forgotten that he was still around. "Eighty points from Gryffindor in one day! Stop before the whole house hates both of you."  
  
That thought seemed to deflate some of the anger between them, and Ron sighed, wanting to go back to the showers and drown himself. Could things get any worse?  
  
"Well, since you're so keen on my following the rules, you can be sure I won't be showing up anywhere else _out of bounds_ ," Hermione said stiffly, turning to leave. "You can go fuck yourself, Ronald Weasley, because you surely won't be getting anything from me!"  
  
Ron's jaw dropped and he heard Harry suck in a sharp breath beside him as they watched Hermione stomp off down the Quidditch pitch.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

A loud bang echoed, the sound of a heavy blunt object hitting the back  
of a metal locker bouncing off the shower walls

A loud bang echoed, the sound of a heavy blunt object hitting the back of a metal locker bouncing off the shower walls. Harry didnÕt care if he was throwing his Quidditch gear around. In fact, taking out his frustrations on his locker and gear was actually making him feel better. He threw his kneepad hard into the locker.  Another bang sounded.  Harry was completely fucked off.  He didnÕt know what was pissing him off more: the fact Hermione knew about Tonks, or that Ron had been shagging Hermione all this time.  

ÒFuck.Ó  

There went his second kneepad, deep into the recesses of his locker, with his other equipment, where it landed haphazard and lopsided in the pile of sweat-stained leather.  Both himself and his gear were drenched from the workout heÕd given himself on the pitch, in an effort to work off some of his anger, but his mind kept coming back to what happened that afternoon.

When Hermione stormed off, Ron looked stricken. He tried to back-pedal; telling Harry that this thing with Hermione kind of just happened, and they couldnÕt tell him just yet.  He claimed Hermione wanted to keep it secret, and that he couldnÕt deny Hermione anything.  At that, Harry punched Ron again, and then demanded to know how long theyÕd been sneaking around with each other.  Ron admitted since the first prefectÕs meeting at the beginning of school.  Harry felt like he was going to be sick.  TheyÕd been fucking each other for months, and just now, he found out about it?  

Harry just couldnÕt deal with this anymore.  He yelled at Ron to get the fuck out of his face before he put him in the hospital wing.  It was the only warning heÕd give his friend.  Ron must have sensed that Harry meant it, because he left quietly, rubbing his sore jaw.

Once Ron left, Harry just stood there, in a daze. Rage coursed through him. Anger and hurt engulfed him.  He didnÕt understand why they just didnÕt tell him.  He would have been happy for him, wouldnÕt have he?  HeÕd suspected for a while that his friends had feelings for one another, but to have been kept in the dark like that Ð _lied_ to for months Ð well, it just went to show they really werenÕt his best mates after all.

 ÒAre you finished abusing inanimate objects?Ó

 The familiar voice cut through HarryÕs focus, causing him to whirl around, and face the intruder.  

ÒWhat is it with girls and the boysÕ locker room today?Ó Harry grumbled, turning away from Ginny.

 Ginny sniffed, amused at his response.  ÒAww.  Is ickle Harrykins angry?Ó

 He bristled at her mocking tone.  ÒGo away, Ginny.  IÕm not in the mood.Ó

Harry heard her move, but she didnÕt leave.  Instead, she advanced deeper into the room, closer to him.  He could almost feel her, the small hairs on his nape prickling and standing on end in some kind of unexpected anticipation.  This unnerved him.  

 ÒWhen are you ever in the mood, Harry?Ó she asked, a bit sharply.  

She was annoyed; he could tell.  Well tough.  She was the one who sought him out, not the other way around. If she wanted to stay, sheÕd just have to deal with his mood, whether she liked it or not.

 ÒFuck off.Ó

 ÒTsk, tsk, tsk.  You have a potty mouth, Mr. Potter.Ó

 From the corner of his eye, he could see her.  Ginny had caught his eye when she approached the nearby long, narrow bench, not but two feet from him.  When she slowly straddled it, he couldnÕt help but get a better look.  She sat, her knees wide, causing her already too short tartan skirt to rid up her milky white thighs, and Harry idly wondered if those thighs were as soft as they looked, or as strong as they promised.  What made them even more enticing was the fact that her knee high socks came up right where they were supposed to; she showed only about four inches of skin, but that four inches was definitely worth it.  

 Ginny must have noticed him looking, because she smirked, and leaned back, propping herself up with a loose grip on the portion of the bench behind her.  The action made her blouse open up farther.  As it was, she already had three whole buttons undone.  Now, her blouse opening was wide enough for Harry to see the splatter of freckles that kissed the skin on her chest, not quite between her breasts, but so fucking close that he could almost imagine them.

ÒSee anything you like?Ó  

Her tone was light, but Harry could detect a faint hint of breathlessness, a deepness heÕd never heard from her before.  Looking up, their eyes met, and Harry stirred at the desire that was so clear in her eyes.  He noted that her cheeks were rosy flushed, her mouth wet and full, her eyes a deep recess of chocolate brown.  Her red hair shone in the light, falling in waves behind her.  Harry thought he liked her hair loose; she usually wore it tied up, or in a messy bun.  

When she widened her thighs slightly, Harry thought heÕd come in his trousers.  Fuck!  What was she trying to do?  Kill him?  

 ÒWhat are you doing here, Ginny?Ó

This time, she leaned forward, giving him a glimpse down the front of her blouse.  Harry fought hard with his body, but he couldnÕt stop it from reacting.  ÒI heard you had a fight with Ron and Hermione.Ó

Harry snorted, and looked away, his body now under control, and the anger resurfacing.  ÒYou could say that.  ItÕs none of your business, anyway.Ó

Ginny wasnÕt able to hide her stricken look, but she quickly recovered.  He felt like shite for hurting her feelings, but really, she was much too nosey for her own good.  She didnÕt say anything for a good three minutes, and Harry was starting to become uncomfortable under her scrutiny.  As a distraction, he decided to get ready for his shower.  He pulled off his Quidditch jumper, and then threw it in his locker, to join the rest of his discarded and abused Quidditch things.

 Finally, he couldnÕt take the silence any longer.  

ÒAre you just going to sit there, and watch me undress?Ó he asked harshly.

ÒTell me something, Harry,Ó Ginny began, ignoring his question completely.  ÒIs it the fact that they kept their relationship from you, or the fact that theyÕre in love thatÕs fucking you off?Ó

It felt like the wind was knocked out of him.  ÒWhat?  What are you on about?Ó

Ginny shrugged.  

ÒIt seems to me that you should be happy your best mates are in love, what with all the shite thatÕs going on.  Instead, youÕre standing in the Quidditch showers, throwing your gear around like itÕs your mortal enemy.  

ÒAnd, it makes me wonder:  what is it thatÕs really making you angry?  It canÕt be the lying, because, well, havenÕt you been lying all this time about fucking Tonks?  So, that just leaves one option: youÕre pissed off at the fact someone had the _nerve_ to fall in love, while youÕve never really been in love yourself.Ó

He reared on Ginny.  ÒWho the _fuck_ do you think you are?Ó The intensity of his reaction floored him, and for one second Ð one tiny, fleeting second Ð he realised that Ginny might actually be right.

She must have seen the recognition, the acceptance of her premise in his eyes, because she simply said, ÒIÕm right, arenÕt I?Ó  There was no triumph in her voice, no victory in her words.  It was just a simple statement of fact, soft and frightening at the same time.  ÒYouÕre angry because theyÕre in love, and youÕre not.Ó  

Shame filled him.  Ginny was right. He hated to admit it Ð loathed actually Ð but if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that she was right.  He was angry that they had been seeing each other, but not because of the lies Ð he was as much of a liar in that department as they were Ð but because he was jealous that they had found love, whereas heÕd never really experienced being in love himself.  

His eyes sought GinnyÕs with a silent question: how did she know?

ÒI know you better than you realize, Harry,Ó Ginny said, simply.

They looked at each other intensely.  Harry had never felt anything like it.  It was like nothing else existed but the two of them.  Something was happening Ð he didnÕt know what Ð but it was there, it was in the way she was looking at him, in the way he was looking at her. HeÕd never had a woman understand him the way Ginny seemed to, not even Tonks.  But Tonks was a different story altogether.  Harry cleared his throat, and looked away.

ÒSo, how did you find out about Tonks, anyway?Ó he asked, slightly worried as he changed the subject.  

Ginny smiled sympathetically.  ÒSeamus.  He overheard your ÔargumentÕ with Ron and Hermione. You three are the talk of the Tower.Ó

Harry groaned.  Of all the people who could have heard, it had to have been Seamus.  He was a worse gossip than his girlfriend.  This would be all over the school by morning. 

 ÒFuck.Ó

 ÒYes, please.Ó  

His head whipped around so fast, he almost gave himself whiplash.  Ginny was sitting there, thighs wide, smirking.  She arched her eyebrow at the shocked, almost terrified look that must have been on his face.

 ÒStop playing games, Ginny.Ó

 ÒWho says IÕm playing games?Ó  

 Slowly, she undid the next button on her blouse.

ÒGinny,Ó Harry warned.  This was definitely going somewhere he wasnÕt sure it should go.  Just having her there, so close, was wreaking havoc on his body.  She was so fucking tempting, innocent and wicked all at the same time.  

There went the next button.  

He couldnÕt let her do this.  She was his best mateÕs sister.  She was sister to six Ð SIX! Ð brothers.  Harry couldnÕt let her lose her innocence on the tile floor of the boysÕ locker room.  HeÕd known her for far too long, knew her too well to know she deserved better for her first time.  

 ÒIf you donÕt stop, GinnyÉ.Ó

Ginny smiled; it was seductive and sweet. She shook her head, and slid her blouse off her shoulders, exposing her white cotton bra.  HarryÕs breath hitched, but he quickly looked away.

 She sighed.  ÒHarry Potter, everyoneÕs saviour.  Stop being so noble, Harry, and take whatÕs being offered to you.Ó  

ÒIÕm not going to take your virginity in sweaty Gryffindor Quidditch locker rooms, Ginny.Ó

ÒWhat makes you think IÕm a virgin?Ó

HarryÕs mouth dropped.  At first, he was too shocked to say anything.  Then, surprisingly, he became angry. ÒWho?Ó  For some reason, he needed to know whom sheÕd been with.  The need to know was intense and fierce.  He tried not to think why it bothered him so much, but when he looked at her pale skin, her small round breasts, hot pangs of desire and possessiveness shot through him.  It frightened and excited him at the same time.

 ÒDoes it matter?Ó

 ÒYes, it bloody hell matters!Ó

 She cocked her head to the side, examining him, scrutinizing and evaluating whether or not she should say.  ÒNo, I donÕt think it does.Ó

Swiftly and silently, he approached her.  Harry towered over her, eyes smouldering. His breath deepened, and his pulse quickened.  He was so hard that it hurt.  He wanted her.  He wanted to know who had had her.  ÒIt matters.Ó

ÒWhy?Ó

 ÒYou know why.Ó

 ÒNo, I donÕt.Ó

 ÒAre you going to make me say it?Ó

 ÒYes.Ó

 ÒBecause I canÕt stand the thought of someone else touching you.Ó

His mouth crashed over hers, as he pulled her roughly against him.  She whimpered and moaned in his mouth, her body melting and moulding itself against his.  She arched into his grasp, her hips colliding with his body.  Oh fuck, she tasted so good.  Her tongue snaked out, licked his lips, seeking entrance, which he greedily granted. Their kiss was hard and wet, all their pent up frustrations breaking the surface.

Ginny pulled away, causing Harry to groan at the loss of her mouth, but he was soon rewarded.  She reached back, and unfastened her skirt.  It pooled at her feet; she stepped out of it easily.  Harry audibly growled at the sight of Ginny in her simple white cotton knickers and bra, knee-high socks and mary-janes.  HeÕd never seen a sexier sight in his life.  His cock was hard and throbbing, waiting and wanting the redhead before him.  

Licking his lips, like he had been presented with the best feast a man could ever want, Harry reached for her, burying his hands in her silky mane, pulling her to him.  This kiss was no less passionate than their first.  Ginny mewed, her hands exploring his bare chest.  Her fingers teased his nipples, sending a jolt directly to his erection.  He groaned.  It felt so good.  

HarryÕs hands left her hair, and began roaming her skin.  It was as soft as he had expected, sweet and warm.  His mouth released her lips, and latched on to the skin at the crook of her neck.  She bucked violently against him.

ÒFuck,Ó she breathed.  

 Oh, God.  ÒSay it again,Ó Harry ordered. He thought it was so hot, her talking dirty.  

ÒFuck,Ó Ginny whispered.  Harry could feel her smile against his cheek.  

He rewarded her with a swipe of his tongue, right at the sensitive spot behind her ear.  Eyes rolling back, she groaned hotly, biting her bottom lip, in an effort to not cry out.   Harry would have none of that.  He wanted her to come undone.  He wanted to make her come, over and over again.  He wanted her to scream his name, scream naughty, forbidden things as he fucked her.

ÒSay it again, Gin.Ó

ÒFuck,Ó she began, causing Harry to groan.  ÒMe.Ó  Harry almost lost it.  He attacked her neck like there was no tomorrow.  ÒOh, yes.  Oh, God.  OhÉ.  Fuck me, Harry.  Please!Ó

 God, she was trying to kill him.

 ÒPlease, I needÉÓ

 ÒWhat do you need, Gin?  Tell me.Ó

 ÒI need your hands on me.Ó

He was certainly going to oblige.  

Turning her around, so that her arse was nestled just right, his hard cock pressing up against her, he wrapped his arm around her delicate shoulders.  Harry positioned them a little to the left.  ÒLook up,Ó he whispered.

When she did, she moaned, her knees almost buckling from under her, but Harry had a firm grip, and he wouldnÕt let her fall. HeÕd never let her fall.  The image before them was the most erotic thing heÕd ever seen in his young life.  About five feet ahead of them, was a mirror.  

They stood, Ginny in front of Harry, watching each other in the mirror.  Her eyes locked with his.  He could see desire and want.  Harry could even feel it pouring off her.  Off him, too.  HeÕd never wanted someone as much as he wanted Ginny Weasley right then.  

ÒWatch.Ó

Harry snaked his hand down her stomach, tickling and caressing her soft skin.  When he reached her navel, his fingers wormed their way under the band of her kickers, travelling south to their ultimate destination.  He cupped her sex; her soft curls were damp with anticipation.  His finger slid between her lips, brushing against her swollen clit, causing them to both moan in tandem.

ÒYouÕre so fucking wet,Ó he marvelled.  

ÒFor you,Ó she replied softly. 

 He growled.

He watched her in the mirror, as his fingers danced over her centre.  She was the most erotic creature heÕd ever laid eyes on.  Her eyes were heavy lidded, but not closed.  She was watching, watching him pleasure her with his fingers, watching them together.  Her hips moved faster against him, needing more. Harry increased his tempo, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.  He licked his lips. She did the same.  

When he slid a finger deep inside her, she cried out.  Her back arched, bowed.  GinnyÕs arms, reached back, grasping him.  She turned her head to catch his mouth in a kiss, which Harry returned fervently, but released much too soon.  

ÒWatch,Ó he whispered, coaxing her gaze back to the mirror.  

Harry was amazed he hadnÕt come yet.  He wanted to see her come first.  His tempo sped up, and before long, he added a second and third finger.  Ginny was panting, rocking against him with wild abandon.  

HeÕd never seen her so free and uninhibited.  

HeÕd noticed these last few years that she wasnÕt the shy little girl whoÕd once had a crush on him.  She was tougher, more confident.  Subtle things heÕd come to notice, like the way she walked with her head held high, or that sultry, mischievous gleam in her eyes.  HeÕd noticed how boys had begun stealing glances at her, appraising her.  She was definitely stunning. But, most importantly, Harry had noticed how much he liked being with her, just talking or planning Quidditch strategy. 

 

Oh, heÕd noticed Ginny Weasley all right, but never dared make any move.  His life was fucked up as it was; he didnÕt need to put her life in danger as well, never mind the fact she rushed into danger at the end of last year, without a second thought, because heÕd asked for her help.  Watching her now, watching her ride his hand like her life depended on it, Harry thought she never looked sexier. 

Their eyes were locked, chocolate brown with emerald green, desire reflected in both.  Ginny was having a hard time staying upright, but Harry had a firm grip on her.  ÒCome for me,Ó he whispered in her ear.  She whimpered in acquiescence. He stroked her once, twice, thrice more.  Her orgasm crashed over her violently. GinnyÕs entire body stiffened with intense pleasure.  Her screams echoed off the tile.  Shite, she was loud, oh God, so loud, and Harry found he rather liked that.  A lot, in fact.  He was so hard, his hard cock pressing and nestled between the cleft of her plump arse.

 It took her a full minute to come down from her high.  He wasnÕt finished with her.  Far from it.  After seeing how gorgeous she looked when she came, Harry had to have her, had to be buried deep inside her warmth. He had to get naked. And quick.

Keeping an arm wrapped around GinnyÕs shoulders, he summoned his wand, and quickly performed a banishing charm on the rest of their clothing.  Another flick of his wand, and the contraception charm was taken care of.  He tossed his wand aside.

ÒIÕm going to fuck you now, Ginny.Ó   Her moan resonated deep inside him, firing him up, fanning his burning desire.    

 With his knee, he nudged her feet wider.  Taking his free hand, he reached down, grasped her thigh, and positioned her so that her right leg was up and resting on the bench right beside them.  He bent her over slightly, causing her bottom to press against his erection. Harry hissed at the touch.  He was extra sensitive, having been aroused for such a long time.  It didnÕt matter, though.  He was about to have her.

Pressing bluntly against her opening, Harry said, ÒDonÕt stop watching.Ó  Immediately, their eyes locked again.

Harry plunged inside her with one even, hard stroke.  Both cried out.  Ginny had to braced herself, grabbing hold to the edge of the lockers to her right.  Her mouth was opened, a small, almost imperceptible smile graced her lips.  

For his part, Harry thought he was going to die of pure pleasure.  She was so tight, so wet, so fucking hot, he felt like he was going to go insane from the shear force it took him to not pound into her like a madman.  He could feel her muscles clenching him, working him. His self-control was waning.  If he didnÕt move soon, he believed he quite literally would explode.

 ÒPlease.Ó

One word.  One word was all it took for Harry to truly, utterly lose control.  He slammed into Ginny, hard and wanting.  She moaned her approval.  He did it again.  And again.  And again. Soon, Ginny was meeting him, counter-thrusting against him.  He was growling, and grunting.  She was mewling and screaming.  

 Reaching down, Harry covered her mound with his hand, and stroked her gently with his thumb.  GinnyÕs breaths were short pants, her eyelids trying to flutter shut from the force of the bliss he was giving her, but she fought to keep her eyes open, to look at him while they made love.   

 HeÕd never watched himself with anyone like this.  But now, he thought it was the best fucking idea heÕd ever had.  Harry was on the edge, his orgasm close, so close, but he held back, though that was probably the hardest thing heÕd ever done.  He wanted to see GinnyÕs face when she came again.  

ÒOh God,Ó she whimpered.  ÒHarry.Ó  She repeated his name like a mantra, spurring him on.  

Her second orgasm hit her even harder than the first.  Harry could feel her milking him, her entire body responding to the ecstasy he was giving her.  HeÕd never seen anyone look more beautiful.  He kept thrusting into her, but it wasnÕt long before he joined her over the edge, spilling himself in her, deep and hot.

The sound of their heavy, laboured breathing engulfed them.  Spent and still cradling her to him, Harry let his head drop to rest on GinnyÕs upper back.  They were both sticky and sweaty, utterly tired, but fantastically sated.  That was the best-damned orgasm heÕd ever had, and heÕd had his share of mind-blowing orgasms.

Resting against her, HarryÕs hands stroked her belly, and caressed her breasts leisurely.  His heart was beating fast, so fast he thought it might actually burst.  Idly, he realized he could feel GinnyÕs heartbeat as well, under his teasing fingers.  Oddly enough, it seemed her heart was beating in perfect sync with his.  Harry shook his head.  _Must be just my imagination_ , he thought, but something inside him doubted that.  Something inside told him that this was right, perfect. 

 He smiled against her skin.

 If Harry had looked up, he would have seen GinnyÕs identical smile in the mirror.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

He didnÕt need Hermione

He didnÕt need Hermione.   He didnÕt!

Ron rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, stifling a groan. He was angry with Hermione, wasnÕt he? SheÕd blocked him out of her mind, and he didnÕt care because she was an insufferable know-it-all whoÕd been so meddling that she caused his best mate to actually punch him.   Three times!

Still, he couldnÕt shake the desolate feeling welling up inside him. There might as well be a Dementor standing there right beside him, because he felt like every drop of happiness had just been sucked out of him. To top it off, panic had started to fester inside him. Over and over again he had to keep reminding himself that Hermione was perfectly healthy, holed up in the GirlsÕ Dormitory, but it wasnÕt helping. What if she was hurt? Lying somewhere, bleeding, and he couldnÕt help her.

ÒBugger!Ó 

He flung the pillow across the room, and buried his face in his hands. He felt like he couldnÕt breathe. He was sweating, even though heÕd already kicked his sheets to the floor. What if Hermione had died, and heÕd be forced to live the rest of his life like this, empty and alone? He moaned, turning on his side and curling into a fetal position to stop himself from reaching for his wand. 

It had only been a few hours since Hermione had cast a spell utilizing Occlumency, effectively blocking Ron from her thoughts, and he was already going mad. What if that spell had done something to her? You canÕt block people like that. If so, Harry would have blocked Voldemort. No, no, no. Hermione had said they both had to agree. Had he agreed? He didnÕt remember. It didnÕt matter anyway. . . 

She was dead. He just knew it. 

Ron went to reach for his wand, but jerked his hand back at the last minute. Hermione was fine. She was fine. He kept repeating it to himself as he finally tumbled off his bed, and backed into the corner, trying to get as far away from his wand as possible. He needed to find Hermione somehow, but he could hardly move. Pain had started spreading over him - physical pain, emotional pain - he couldnÕt tell the difference, but it was making it very hard for him to think. 

  _Hermione!_

He screamed it mentally, putting every ounce of effort into it, because if he didnÕt hear her voice soon, he was going to do what heÕd been fighting off all night. 

 He was going to kill himself. 

 

 

~*~

 

_Just think logically_ , Hermione told herself, taking deep breaths as she forced herself to concentrate on the cooling water running over her body. She knew that thereÕd be a period of adjustment once sheÕd cut herself off from Ron. You canÕt have someone living in your head for months and not miss them when they were suddenly gone. 

SheÕd just have to get used to it. 

That didnÕt help the dread, the irrational panic that was seizing her, but sheÕd known that was going to happen too. SheÕd warned Ron that there could be side effects when heÕd suggested that they try and break the connection. 

Hermione slid down to the floor of the girlsÕ shower, closing her eyes as the icy water ran over her naked body. If Ron wanted her out of his thoughts, that was fine. She didnÕt want to be there anyway. He was nothing but a crude prat, but she still missed him. No, she could rationalize her way through this. If she just forced herself to stay calm, she could get past this. 

Oh, why had she even agreed to this? Why had she even bothered to research spells used with Occlumency? Why would anyone willingly cause themselves this much heartache? She couldnÕt even remember why she was mad at Ron? 

Hermione started crying. Great wracking sobs shook her body as she rested her head on her knees. Her pride be damned, she couldnÕt live like this. She didnÕt _want_ to live like this. SheÕd just have to beg Ron to change his mind in the morning. HeÕd get over being mad at her. She had only been looking out for HarryÕs well being. Then, when sheÕd known that Ron had been hurt, she couldnÕt help going to him, even if he was in the boys changing room. She didnÕt want Ron hurt. 

What if he was hurt right now? 

No, she told herself, he wasnÕt hurt. 

But he wasnÕt with herÉ.  For some reason, the part of her that used to be Ron was gone, and there was only one way that could happen. . ..  He had died without her knowing it.

Hermione started crying harder, and she gripped at her hair as the pain ripped through her body. Ron was dead and she didnÕt want to go on. She wanted to die too. There was no way she could live like this. Half of her was gone. You canÕt live as half a person. ItÕs just not possible.

_No!_ Hermione told herself, forcing those awful feeling into the back of her mind. Ron was NOT dead. It was just a side effect. A side effect of the spell Ron had told her to cast. _Damn him!_ She hoped he was suffering as much as her, because this was all his stupid idea. 

HermioneÕs head shot up, and for the first time she actually felt the freezing water sheÕd been sitting under for the past hour to keep herself distracted. What if he _was_ suffering as much as her? This wasnÕt a side effect. This was _madness._ The last time theyÕd felt the effects of madness together, it had affected Ron much more intensely. 

 ÒOh my God!Ó

Hermione jumped up and was almost to the door when she realized that she was still naked. Not bothering with the rest of her clothes, she quickly pulled on her dressing gown, and ran out of the showers, her hair still soaking, her body near frozen. She reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and quickly undid the spell that had been blocking his thoughts, after all, the connection wasnÕt broken, just blocked. 

In an instant, a wave of the most awful feelings sheÕd ever felt washed over her. They were so strong and so dreadful, she didnÕt pay attention to where she was going and stubbed her toe on the hearth in the Common Room, making her sprawl face first to the ground. Her knee cracked painfully against the stone, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming in pain. 

  _SheÕs dead. . . dead, dead, dead. . ._

Hermione could hear RonÕs voice clearly in her mind, could feel his panic that was so desperate it was choking the breath out of her, and she was only feeling it second hand. 

  _IÕm not dead! IÕm right here!_

She called out to him, looking down to inspect her toe that was bleeding badly, and very clearly broken. The pain Ron was feeling, mixed with the pain in her knee and toe made her want to black out. 

  _She left me. SheÕs gone. I canÕt do it. . ._

He wasnÕt hearing her. It was obvious he was rambling to himself, caught up in some sort of self-made nightmare. Images bombarded her mind, pictures of herself dead, injured, bleeding.

Hermione hopped up, forgetting her physical pain when she realized that though she could hear him, he still couldnÕt hear her. SheÕd only undone half the spell. SheÕd need to get to Ron to undo the part that was blocking her thoughts from him. Oh, how could she have been so stupid to agree to this? She wasnÕt one to act rashly out of anger! Ron had demanded that she find a way to undo their connection, and sheÕd been only too glad to tell him that sheÕd found an answer weeks ago. 

 But, this wasnÕt an answer. . ..  This was a nightmare.

Hermione didnÕt make an effort to be quiet as she rushed up to RonÕs room. She barged into the room without knocking, and gasped when she saw Ron curled into the corner with his head buried in his hands, shaking violently. 

ÒRon!Ó  She ran to him, dropping down to help him, and wincing when darts of pain shot through her from her injured knee. ÒLook, Ron, love, IÕm right here.Ó

Ignoring her own pain, she laced her fingers into RonÕs hair and lifted his head up until he was facing her. His eyes had squeezed shut, and he was refusing to look at her. 

ÒNo, no, youÕre dead. YouÕre gone. . .Ó

ÒOh bother!Ó 

Hermione dug into her pocket once more for her wand. It took a huge amount of effort just to get the spell right, considering her own pain, and the madness Ron was sharing with her unknowingly. Once the block was removed, Ron stopped shaking almost instantly. His eyes flew open, and brilliant blue orbs stared at her in shock.

  _Hermione?_

_Yes?_

 She tried to smile, but the pain in her toe was catching up to her, and she was sure it looked more like a grimace. It must have been enough, because Ron pulled her to him, catching her in a fierce hug. 

ÒYouÕre not dead.Ó

 ÒOf course IÕm not dead. Ron, I told you thereÕd be side effects,Ó she said, the pain making her voice shrill.

ÒSide effects? I almost--Ó Ron pulled away, staring at her face as if assuring himself that she was real, and then shook his head. ÒIt doesnÕt matter,Ó he said, holding her to him and burying his face in her hair. ÒDonÕt ever leave me again.Ó

It felt so good to be in his arms, she could have stayed like that all night and forgotten all about her broken toe. ÒJust promise me we wonÕt fight again. That was awful. You hurt my feelings.Ó

ÒIÕm sorry,Ó he mumbled, placing a kiss against her neck. ÒIÕm so sorry for whatever it was we fought about.Ó

ÒRon!Ó She smacked at his bare shoulder. ÒYou donÕt even remember the fight.Ó

 ÒI just donÕt care.Ó

 He studied her face again for a second before he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her willing mouth, causing a tingling warmth to spread over her, killing the cold. 

ÒYouÕre all wet,Ó he mumbled against her lips, and then brushed some of her wet hair away from her face as he looked down at her body. He pushed her dressing gown to the side, and raised his eyebrows when the curve of her breast was revealed. ÒAre you naked under here?Ó

ÒI was in the shower when I realized that you might be in as bad a shape as I was. I didnÕt have time to get dressedÓ

He hugged her again. ÒThank Merlin you did realize it. I really think I might have done something drastic if youÕd waited too much longer.Ó Hermione moaned when he caused her to put more pressure on her knee and he pulled back, frowning. ÒAre you okay?Ó

Hermione sat back, resting her weight on her hands to take the pressure off her knee. ÒI fell. I was in such a hurry. I didnÕt see the hearth and--Ó  

ÒYouÕre bleeding!Ó Ron pushed her dressing gown aside, revealing her legs as he stared at her toe in horror. 

ÒItÕs okay. . .ItÕs just--Ó

ÒBroken,Ó Ron finished, as he ran his hands over her calf up to her knee, studying it. ÒAnd youÕre knee, itÕs all--Ó

 ÒBruised.Ó 

ÒIt looks bad,Ó Ron said, and Hermione squeaked in surprise when he suddenly swept her into his arms and stood. ÒYou should have told me you were hurt.Ó

Hermione wanted to tell him that it wasnÕt that big of deal, but she was enjoying be near him too much. She laid her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, knowing that it carried the same rhythm as hers, and finding huge amounts of comfort in that knowledge. She was almost sorry when he laid her down on the bed. 

It wasnÕt until Ron reached for his wand on the nightstand that she snapped out of her happy haze. ÒWhat are you doing?Ó

ÒIÕm healing you,Ó he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione shook her head, thinking back to Lockhart and what HarryÕs arm had looked like when it had suddenly been de-boned. ÒI donÕt think so.Ó

Ron smiled at her, making him look very endearing. ÒPlease tell me you arenÕt comparing me to Lockhart.Ó

ÒHe _was_ a Hogwarts Professor.Ó

ÒAnd an idiot,Ó Ron said, and then leaned down to study her toe again. ÒCome on, Hermione, trust me.Ó

It did hurt, and she realized that she did trust him, knowing without a doubt that he wouldnÕt want to do anything that could hurt her. ÒOkay.Ó

She bit her lip, watching as he healed her toe, and then her knee. All the while, his brow was furrowed in intense concentration, as though he was desperate to get it right. When he was done, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled at him. 

ÒAlright now?Ó he asked, and then ran a hand gently over her knee, looking a bit put out. ÒThe bruisingÕs not totally healed, but it should feel better.Ó

ÒIt does,Ó she said, leaning over to look at her knee and seeing that though there was a faint tinge of reddish-blue, it looked much better than it had, and her toe was nearly perfect again. ÒWow, Ron, thatÕs really good. . .I didnÕt know you knew healing charms, especially bone mending charms, those are really difficult.Ó

ÒWith as many times as IÕve heard my mum do those charms, they come pretty easy,Ó Ron said, his cheeks flushed despite his nonchalant shrug. ÒBesides, I do share a mind with the most brilliant witch ever to grace Hogwarts halls.Ó

Hermione felt her own flush rise up on her cheeks. ÒI think you may be exaggerating just a little.Ó

ÒI donÕt think so,Ó he said, eyeing her lips, his gaze darkening, his tone dipping down a notch. ÒI think youÕre perfect.Ó

ÒNow I _know_ youÕre exaggerating,Ó Hermione said, giving a nervous laugh rather than giving into the lust that was flowing off Ron in waves. It wasnÕt easy, but they had other things to discuss. ÒRon?Ó

His gaze drifted lower to the V of her dressing gown. ÒHuh?Ó

ÒWe need to talk.Ó

ÒWe do?Ó

ÒYes. ArenÕt you alarmed by this?Ó she asked, taking a deep breath to still her rapid heartbeat. ÒThis is starting to get scary. . .I didnÕt even break the connection, just blocked it, and look at what happened.Ó

Ron finally broke out of his entrancement slightly, and stared at her, looking unconcerned. ÒThen donÕt block the connection again. . . You shouldnÕt have done it in the first place.Ó

HermioneÕs mouth dropped open in outrage. ÒIt was _your_ idea!Ó

ÒIt was?Ó Ron said, his eyes sliding back down to her mouth. ÒThat was daft of me.  Bugger, you have a nice mouth.Ó

ÒRon, youÕre not listening.  Pay attention to me!Ó

ÒI am paying attention to you,Ó he said, sounding dangerously sexy as he crawled over her. HermioneÕs breath hitched as she stared at his bare chest, and felt his weight pressing her to the bed. ÒI always pay attention to you. . . always.Ó His hand slid up her thigh, pushing her dressing gown aside as he gripped her waist possessively. ÒYou walked through the Common Room with no knickers?Ó

Hermione couldnÕt help the moan that escaped her as fire flowed through her veins. ÒI was in a hurry.Ó

ÒMmm, I think thatÕs sexy,Ó he mumbled, as he leaned down to press a kiss to her collarbone. 

She could feel his erection straining against his trousers, pressing insistently against her thigh. He smelled so good, and she knew heÕd taste even better, but she wanted to get a final word in before she gave in completely. ÒWeÕre going to have to start researching this again. . ..  You have to give me the medallion.Ó 

Ron ignored her, choosing to lick at the curve of her neck. She sighed, knowing that Ron held onto the medallion like his greatest treasure. It wasnÕt irregular for him to suddenly try to change the subject when she brought it up. ÒIÕm serious, Ron. I want you to give it to me.Ó

_DonÕt have it._

He spoke to her mentally as his tongue tracing over the shell of her ear. His efforts of distracting her were working very well. Her body was screaming at her to just let it go and enjoy what he was offering, and then the meaning of his words set in. She shoved at his shoulders. ÒWhat do you mean you donÕt have it?Ó

Ron sighed and pulled back to look down at her in annoyance. ÒI was mad at you. . .. That _was_ a nasty trick you pulled lecturing Harry about Tonks. . ..  Do you know how bad that makes me look? Then you told him about us. . .and not very delicately. . ..Ó

Hermione waved off his rambling. ÒWhat did you do with it, Ron? That medallion is important. If something happened to it, who knows what that could mean for us. . ..Ó

ÒNothing happened to it,Ó Ron said, sitting up and running a hand through his hair as he took a heavy breath. ÒI couldnÕt bear destroying it. . .so I. . ..Ó

His eyes widened suddenly. Hermione could feel the panic rush through him and that caused her own breath to hitch. 

ÒWhat did you do?Ó

ÒOh no,Ó he said, dropping his face into his hands, mumbling through his fingers. ÒI wasnÕt thinking. . . I just wanted it out of my sight, I didnÕt want to think about you, about us. . . fuck!Ó

ÒWhere is it?Ó Hermione whispered, being too flustered to think of looking for the answer herself. 

Ron looked up at her, his eyes still wide and terrified. ÒI gave it to Ginny.Ó

 ÒYou what?Ó 

ÒIÕm sure she wonÕt know what it really does. . . you donÕt think sheÕll figure it out, do you?Ó Ron said in a rush, his voice growing more and more panicked. ÒOh God, you donÕt think sheÕll tell my mum?Ó

Hermione gapped at him. ÒWho cares about that?Ó

ÒHave you met my mum?Ó

ÒRon, what happens if it affects her?Ó

 He stared at her blankly, and then blinked in vague understanding. ÒYou mean. . .like it affected us?Ó 

ÒYes, how could you?Ó Hermione said, resisting the urge to smack him again. ÒYou donÕt want your sister to end up in the same situation as us, do you?Ó

Ron blanched. ÒGross, Hermione, thatÕs Ginny youÕre talking about. Besides, itÕs my medallion. It canÕt affect her.   Can it?Ó

ÒItÕs not really your medallion. We donÕt know who it belongs to, and you did find it under HarryÕs bed. . ..  Maybe itÕs his? Have you asked him?Ó Hermione said, taking a deep breath and trying to think rationally. ÒI guess it should be okay. ItÕs not like sheÕll be able to decipher the inscription on the back, which was our mistake, actually saying the spell out loud. And Ginny doesnÕt read Celtic. . ..Ó

ÒMost normal people donÕt study Celtic for the fun of it. . ..Ó She huffed, and didnÕt bother resisting the urge as she smacked his upper arm. Ron rubbed the sore spot and gave her a weak smile. ÒOh, come on, Hermione, itÕs fine. IÕll get it back tomorrow. Besides, what are the chances of her finding a soul mate in one day?Ó

Hermione supposed that was trueÉ.  What were the chances of Ginny finding her soul mate in one day? And worrying about it really wouldnÕt help anything, so she let her eyes drift over RonÕs bare torso. 

He really was handsome. She loved the freckles littered over his shoulders and the faint trace of red-gold hairs on his chest that lead to a trail that dipped below the waist band of his trousers. His arms were strong, his stomach flat, and Hermione knew from memory what the muscles on his back felt like under her fingers, rippling as he responded to even her slightest touch. 

Lust pooled in her stomach, sending waves of heat darting through her system. She looked up, and saw that thoughts of Ginny and the medallion had fled from RonÕs mind as well. His eyes had turned a dark, midnight blue. She loved when his eyes turned that colour. She didnÕt have to read his mind to know what he was thinking. 

Fire seemed to swirl in the air between them. Hot, burning desire that blocked out all rational thought and Hermione was defenseless against its power over her. She didnÕt even try to fight it. She willingly gave herself over to temptation, and her eyes ran over RonÕs masculine form once more.  Only this time, she was certain that possessiveness burned in her gaze. 

_Mine,_ she thought, knowing that anyone who tried to take him from her would sorely regret it. SheÕd die for him, more than thatÑs _heÕd kill for him._

ÒThereÕs no need for that, love,Ó Ron said, his voice husky with arousal, but lingering with mirth. ÒNo one is taking me from you . . . IÕm all yours.Ó

ÒForever?Ó Hermione asked, knowing that her voice held a sharp edge.

ÒFor eternity and beyond.Ó  Ron grabbed her hand, placing it over his bare chest so that it rested on the hard flesh directly above where his heart lay. ÒFeel that? It beats for you.Ó

Hermione let her hand rest on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath it. Her eyes closed, and she listened to her own heartbeat now pounding in her ears and took comfort from the duality of their rhythms. They were the same beat, the same being, one heart, two bodies, and it soothed the raging tempest that had swept over her at the thought of losing Ron.

ÒBetter?Ó Ron asked after a few more seconds.

ÒHmm, yes.  Sorry, I think IÕm still a little shook up.Ó Hermione leaned down, moving her hand and resting her cheek against RonÕs chest. ÒI donÕt ever want to be separated from you againÉ.  Not ever.Ó

ÒYou know I almost killed myself tonight, right?Ó Ron said, his voice strained and hesitant. 

Hermione lifted her head and looked at him as a shudder of fear went through her at the thought of what would have happened if she hadnÕt made it up to his room when she did. ÒYou would have killed me too. . . I canÕt survive without you. Please donÕt ever forget that.Ó

Ron stared at her, and then nodded. ÒI wonÕt, but it scares me, Hermione. What if something happens to one of us?Ó

ÒNothing is going to happen.Ó

ÒIt might. ThereÕs a war going on, and Harry needs us. IÕd die for him if I had to. Everything would be lost without him. IÕm not that important.Ó

ÒYouÕre important to me,Ó Hermione said, the fear gripping her again. She reached up, letting her hand run over RonÕs cheek, feeling the faint signs of red stubble beneath her fingers. ÒItÕll be fine. WeÕll make sure Harry makes itÑtogether. You wonÕt have to die for him.Ó

Ron didnÕt look convinced.  Hesitation and anxiety flowed off him and Hermione wanted to make the worry in his eyes disappear. Her hand ran to the back of his neck, her fingers tangled in the thick red hair that curled at his nape, and tugged it lightly. She brought his mouth to hers; her teeth nipped lightly at his bottom lip until he parted for her and let her tongue slide into his mouth. 

She swallowed his moan, savouring the feeling of lust that washed over her as Ron clasped her tightly to him and returned the kiss with fervor. Their tongues danced, their lips were soft, swollen, and their bodies were instantly hot as Ron pushed her back against his mattress. 

Hermione moaned, arching her back into him when she felt his weight over her, pinning her to the bed. RonÕs large, calloused hands came up to cup her face as his kiss deepened, becoming hard and possessive. 

ÒYouÕre mine,Ó he rasped against her skin, as his lips moved over to run down the curve of her neck. 

HermioneÕs head tossed to the side, giving him free reign as his tongue traced down to the line of her collarbone that was exposed. Her hands were still tangled in his hair, and she savoured the silky feel of the red stands sliding through her fingers as she gripped harder. She was on fire, burning up in need, and her legs wrapped around him. Her hips thrust up in an instinctual need to still the ache deep inside her. Ron growled as he ground back against her. 

His lips crashed over hers again, his hunger stark and all consuming in HermioneÕs mind. It rushed through her body as they strained against each other. The throb of one heartbeat pulsed between the two of them. They shared one thought, one needÑthe need to be connected, to close the space of flesh that separated their souls. To truly be one with each other. 

Their hands brushed as Ron reached down to pull at the tie of her dressing gown while she tugged at his trousers. The button came free, the zipper giving way to her hand as she pushed it down his pants to caress the hard, silken steel of his arousal. In perfect harmony, RonÕs impatient fingers pushed past her curls, thrusting into her heat, and they both gasped. 

ÒYouÕre wet,Ó he breathed against her lips. 

ÒYouÕre hard.Ó 

They both laughed, and then they became one breath again as Ron kissed her, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his fingers. She stroked him, loving the feel of his erection, the hardness of it that was so different from her soft, moist center. 

Hermione enjoyed his fingers, savoured his touch, but she wanted more. They didnÕt fill the void that needed to be filled, just teased and tormented. And Ron knew what she needed. He felt the primitive mating pulse that demanded their bodies be completely joined as strongly as she did. 

Of one mind, they fought with RonÕs trousers, shoving them past his hips and then HermioneÕs feet tangled in them, dragging the material down his legs. Her dressing gown lay open, and her back arched from the feel of his fevered skin against hers. Her feet hooked together at the small of his back and she was writhing beneath him, desperate for that first drugging thrust of his body into hers. 

She moaned in disappointment, a frown marring her features when Ron reached behind himself and pulled her legs from him. Her eyes snapped open, and she could see that he was smiling at her, looking devious, and so sexy that her breath caught. 

ÒTurn around,Ó he said, his voice low, sounding dangerous and possessive. 

Hermione felt herself melt. Shimmers of excitement flooded over her when she heard his thoughts echo in the recesses of her mind that were reserved only for him. Her eyes drifted closed and she mewed from the fire that was racing through her bloodstream. She was so weak from the need that Ron had to help her turn over, so that she was laying on her stomach, her aching breasts pressed against his tangled sheets. He roughly pulled her dressing gown from her body, and she heard him toss it off the bed. Then his lips were on the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing her tangle of hair off her naked back and draping it over her shoulder. 

He leaned into her, and Hermione could feel his erection against her buttocks as he trailed kisses over her bare back. RonÕs hands closed over hers where they gripped at the sheets, and Hermione spread her legs, shifting impatiently up against him, and moaning from the feel of his hard, heavy body draped over her smaller one. 

ÒPlease, Ron,Ó she whispered.

He chuckled against her shoulder, and then brought one hand down to her thigh, pushing it aside so that she was open to him. Then he lowered himself over her, his weight pushing her deeper into the mattress as he gripped at his hardness, guiding it towards her center. 

ÒOh God,Ó she gasped, burying her face in the sheet to muffle the scream that was threatening to escape her. 

He felt so good pushing into her, filling her, stretching her as far as she could go. HermioneÕs eyes rolled back from the pleasure, the hot, drugging friction of their bodies joining. 

RonÕs hand covered hers once more, pinning her to the bed. His hips surged forward, and Hermione did scream then, but the muffled shout was drowned out by RonÕs own loud moan. 

ÒOf fuck, Hermione,Ó he rasped against the back of her neck as he buried his face there. ÒBugger. . . This should be illegal.Ó

ÒWe donÕt know that it isnÕt,Ó Hermione said, her laugh strained as she shifted under him, longing for the movement of his hips against hers.

Their feelings flowed freely, the channel between the two of them wide open and it was overwhelming. The intensity of their combined pleasure was almost more than Hermione thought she could stand. RonÕs hips pulled away, and then thrust forward again, and white-hot lighting surged through Hermione. It was like his body was made for her. 

ÒIt was,Ó Ron breathed warmly against her neck. ÒIt was made to love you. . . To fuck you.Ó

His words were crude, but it didnÕt matter. They only pushed her forward as images burst in her mind: hot, erotic scenes that made her breath come out in raspy gasps as RonÕs body kept moving in hers. She pushed up against him, and they were a tangle of hot, sweaty limbs, straining bodies that were thrusting and writhing on RonÕs scarlet sheets. 

When the pleasure reached a precipice, HermioneÕs head fell forward once again, and she bit down hard on the sheets as burning ecstasy poured over her body. She shuddered from the force of it, and RonÕs hips thrust harder in response, prolonging the bliss for what seemed like eons. His lips were pressed against her shoulder, his moans vibrating against her sensitive skin as she felt him spill his hot seed inside her. 

They collapsed weakly onto the bed. RonÕs weight was choking the breath out of her, but Hermione was too spent to protest as she fought to suck oxygen into her tight lungs. 

He flopped to the side of her, and she was able to take larger gasps of air, but she was still too breathless to speak.

She turned her head to look at him, seeing that he was also struggling for breath, his chest rising and falling sharply, and he looked so beautiful lying there. She couldnÕt help but reach out to him, speaking to him mentally. _I love you._

She watched as a smile formed on RonÕs lips and he turned his head to look at her. _I love you, too._

ÒEverything will be fine,Ó she said, hoping she was telling the truth. ÒYouÕll see.Ó

Ron nodded, and then reached out and pulled her to him, so that her head rested on his chest. ÒI hope so,Ó he said, as his fingers ran lazily through her hair, gently working out the tangles. ÒBecause, I really canÕt live without you.Ó

 


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing Ron did when he entered the Great Hall was look for  
Ginny, his eyes scanning the room for his sisterÕs familiar

The first thing Ron did when he entered the Great Hall was look for Ginny, his eyes scanning the room for his sisterÕs familiar shock of red hair. He headed straight for the Gryffindor table when he spotted her already eating breakfast. 

ÒBudge up,Ó he said, elbowing his way between her and Harry. 

Ginny huffed at him, scooting over on the bench when she had no choice but to accommodate him. ÒThere is a whole table, Ron. WhatÕs the matter with you?Ó

ÒI need my necklace back,Ó he said, not even bothering to fill his plate as he leaned over to whisper to her.

She pushed him away in annoyance. ÒNo. You gave it to me.Ó

Ron breathed deeply, knowing that sheÕd be like this just to annoy him. ÒI told you it was a gift for Hermione. . . I need it back now.Ó

She smirked. ÒMade up, have you?Ó

ÒYeah, now can I have it back?Ó Ron said, casting a glance at Hermione who was looking down the table at the two of them. ÒPlease.Ó

ÒYou know, I was looking at it and itÕs sort of old and grimy. Did you buy it second hand? I know weÕre poor, but you donÕt have to advertise it. I donÕt think she wants someoneÕs old necklace.Ó

ÒShe wants it.Ó

Ginny looked at her nails, appearing to be deep in thought. ÒIÕll tell you what. . . Since IÕm feeling sisterly, IÕll go with you on the next Hogsmeade trip, and we can pick out a proper gift for her.Ó

Ron ran a hand over his face.  ÒI donÕt need help. I think I know Hermione better than you.Ó

ÒThis is true,Ó Harry said, setting down his fork and looking around Ron to grin at Ginny. ÒThe two of them are _very_ close friends.Ó

Ginny flipped her hair, and leaned on her elbow, smiling back at Harry. Ò _Intimate_ friends, even.Ó

ÒVery intimate.Ó

Ron turned to glare at Harry. ÒYou told her?Ó

ÒYou told Hermione about Tonks,Ó Harry said, as he picked up his fork and took another bite of his eggs.  He swallowed his food and shrugged. ÒFair is fair.Ó

ÒGinny is my sister,Ó Ron said, gaping at Harry like heÕd never met him. ÒAnd sheÕs younger than usÉand a girl.  SheÕs not even supposed to know about . . . about things like that.Ó

Harry choked on his next bite, coughing hard enough to render him speechless. When Ron did nothing, Ginny almost knocked him off the bench as she reached around him to pat Harry on the back. ÒHonestly, Ron.  IÕm not ten. I know where little witches and wizards come from,Ó she said, settling back in her seat as Harry reached for his glass of pumpkin juice. ÒHippogriffs bring them.Ó

Harry coughed again, spraying Ron with pumpkin juice as he laughed. Ron wasnÕt amused. ÒCute, Ginny. . . Fred and George would be so proud.Ó

Ginny sighed, obviously tired of the game. ÒCanÕt I just pay you back sometime and you can go buy Hermione something different. . . IÕm sort of fond of it.Ó 

_ThatÕs not good, Ron._

_I know that_ , he said to Hermione, already knowing that sheÕd been following their conversation through him, though she was sitting with Neville at the other end of table. _Ginny doesnÕt have enough money to pay for it.  SheÕll have to give it back to me._

Harry cleared his throat, snapping Ron out of his mental conversation. ÒYou know, Ginny, if you like it, I can just give Ron the money for it.Ó

Ron tried to resist the urge to stomp on his best mateÕs foot. He was still on delicate ground with Harry after all. 

Ginny smiled brilliantly at Harry. ÒThank you, Harry, thatÕs so sweet.Ó

Ron gasped in surprise. ÒYou canÕt take his money!Ó

ÒWhy not? He knows IÕll pay him back. DonÕt you, Harry?Ó

ÒOh, well. . .Ó HarryÕs usually pale skin grew a bit flushed. ÒYou donÕt have to pay me back.Ó

ÒShe canÕt take your money and she canÕt pay you back,Ó Ron said, now way past irritated. ÒWe donÕt take charity from anyone. . . right, Ginny?Ó

Ginny frowned at him. ÒItÕs not really charity, is it?Ó

ÒDefinitely not charity. You know you can have anything of mine,Ó Harry said quickly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. When Ron just sat there, gaping at him, he cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. ÒBoth of you, youÕre like m-my family. IÕd share anything in my vault with you. ThatÕs all I meant, right?

ÒRight!Ó Ginny said, picking right up where he left off, smiling at Ron triumphantly. ÒSee, not charity.Ó

RonÕs eyes narrowed at Harry, whose eyes looked a little glazed over and then he rounded on Ginny. ÒGive me back my necklace you little brat!Ó

HarryÕs elbow slipped off the table as he startled and growled at Ron. ÒHey!Ó

ÒNow, I mean it, Ginny. . . I need my necklace back,Ó Ron said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. ÒI need it now.Ó

ÒI donÕt have it now!Ó Ginny said, looking shocked and put out at him. ÒItÕs in my room.Ó

ÒWell, go get it.Ó

ÒI have class. IÕll never make it to potions if I go back to the tower now. IÕll give it to you at lunch if itÕs so bloody important!Ó Ginny abandoned her breakfast and picked up her bag. ÒIÕll see you later, Harry.Ó

She stood and swung her bag over her shoulder, her ponytail swinging behind her as she stomped off. Ron watched her go, his eyes still narrowed as he turned back to Harry, who was also staring at GinnyÕs retreating back until she disappeared out of the Great Hall. 

Harry finally noticed Ron looking at him, and cleared his throat. ÒYou know, I didnÕt really tell Ginny about you and Hermione. I wouldnÕt do that.Ó

Ron risked a glance at Hermione who was doing a very poor of job of appearing to be interested in what Neville was saying. ÒThen who did?Ó

Harry winced. ÒSeamus overheard our fight yesterday. It seems that everyone knows now. I think theyÕre all talking about it.Ó

For the first time, Ron turned around, noting the whispers, and he saw several of the students giggling and pointing at either him or Hermione. ÒBloody hell! ThatÕs the last thing I need. HermioneÕs going to go spare.Ó

ÒTell me,Ó Harry sighed, going back to his breakfast. ÒHe told them about Tonks too. It should be in the paper by tomorrow.Ó

Ron forgot anything else he was going to say to Harry, too miserable now to worry about it. 

 


End file.
